True North
by Miyabi
Summary: A follow-up loosely based on a GW doujinshi called "The Eternal Rhapsody." Now that Heero has been revived from coldsleep, he has an older Duo and a teenaged daughter, along with an almost alien time setting, to contend with. Completed 121204
1. Default Chapter

True North

By Miyabi  
Chapter 1  
Pairings: 2x1  
Warnings: AU, OC daughter, sap, yadda yadda, angst.  
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is copyright Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu  
Agency. "The Eternal Rhapsody" is copyright Ringo Zaidan and Midori  
Saiha.  
Many thanks to Rich and Diamroyal for being my betas and sound  
boards.

Duo hadn't considered this a possibility. Even for him, and  
he usually kept an open mind. After all, he wouldn't have gotten into  
this situation if he didn't. One had to have a really open mind to go  
into a time machine to meet someone.

It had all started when he left L2 for Earth to work in one  
of the best known laboratories. He was sixteen then, an incredibly  
gifted scientist, and had jumped at the opportunity, even though he'd  
be leaving L2 for the first time. Upon his arrival, Duo had been  
taken to see who the founder of the labs was.

That was when he'd seen Heero Yuy for the first time. Of  
course, since the labs had been here for fifty years at the time, all  
he'd seen was Heero's picture. When Duo asked where Heero was now,  
his guide—an old man in his sixties—shook his head sadly and said  
that Heero had died when he was seventeen; a year after that picture  
was taken.

It should have ended right there. Instead, what happened was  
that Duo received a disk from two of his coworkers—Dr. J and  
Professor G—that Heero had recorded. He tried to give it back to the  
two old men, since there was no possible way anyone could have known  
him thirty-three to thirty-four years before he was born.

But they insisted, and the next thing he knew, Duo was  
looking at a hologram of a dying Heero, speaking to him like they'd  
been close, known each other intimately. And just before the message  
ended, Duo had heard the words, "I want to see you one more time."

There had been very little information on Heero Yuy's life  
when Duo went to research him; his birth, winning the Nobel Prize,  
establishing the labs and then his death. And then, when he'd told  
Dr. J and Professor G, they'd let slip that they had a time machine.

Duo found himself in AC 196, fifty years from his own time,  
face-to-face with Heero. He hadn't been easy to get along with at  
first; the accusation that Duo would probably rape him if he'd gotten  
the chance hadn't gone across too well. Then he'd met Relena, Heero's  
cousin, and that was when he'd learned about Heero being terminally  
ill. Relena said that it'd been in the Yuys for generations, only  
passed down through the males and killing them while they were young.  
She'd also casually mentioned her clairvoyant powers, telling Duo  
that Heero would fall in love with someone with long hair.

He didn't get what she'd said completely until the photosession. He hadn't known that it'd been taking place; he just wanted  
to let Heero know that he was getting ready for some experiments. But  
then Heero looked up, said his name, and _smiled. _That was when Duo  
realized that that smile had been in the photograph he'd seen upon  
coming to the labs.

Shortly after that, the two of them fell in love. It was that  
simple, really. Or it should have been. Heero was growing weaker, and  
time was quickly running out. He'd always told Duo that he didn't  
have much time left, and now Duo was seeing it for himself. They  
needed to find a cure.

That was where their daughter, Moira, came in. Duo wanted to  
develop a serum that would supply good copies of a gene to replace  
the defective ones causing the disease. For that, they needed the  
blood of someone who was a carrier. Unfortunately, Heero didn't have  
any siblings, and Relena was related to him maternally.

They'd been young. They'd been foolish and desperate. And yet  
they'd managed to pull off genetically engineering a baby in an  
artificial womb in the labs. Granted, Duo and Heero weren't so  
selfish as to just want her for her blood; if Duo failed and Heero  
died, at least Duo wouldn't be completely alone.

In any case, once Moira was born, they knew they'd made the  
right decision. She was, Duo declared, perfect: ten fingers, ten  
toes, with blue-gray eyes that would eventually darken in time. He  
didn't think it'd been possible to fall in love again. Heero hadn't  
either, and despite the trials that came along with having a newborn,  
they never regretted it.

But it was only six months later that Heero collapsed in the  
labs, and this time, it didn't look like he'd leave the hospital  
again. Duo left for AC 246, baby in tow, to find a cure.

The plan had been to work hard to develop a cure for Heero's  
disease. Then, Duo would go back to AC 196 in the time machine and  
use it. Of course, this hadn't worked as Duo thought it would  
already; first, it took longer to get a cure. He'd anticipated  
getting to Heero around AC 250 at the latest, and now it was AC 261.

But he hadn't thought about Dr. J and Professor G putting  
Heero in coldsleep and waiting for Duo all this time. And now, here  
he was, napping in the hospital after the revival process. Professor  
G warned him that it took a while for someone to recover from  
coldsleep, so the drugs couldn't be administered until then. Duo  
didn't want to press things anyway; he needed to get over the shock  
of finding Heero in his own time, sixty-five years later, and for  
God's sake, he wasn't in any shape to do any doctoring work until  
then.

At least the press conferences and interviews were over. It'd  
only been for two weeks, but it felt like it'd never end. Duo knew  
the online magazines wanted a crack at him, but that could wait. He  
had more important things to do, and the most important one was right  
beside him, resting from the coldsleep revival process.

Duo rose from the chair next to Heero's bed. He needed tocall Relena and get her over here. Hell, with her clairvoyance, she  
might be expecting _this_ anyway. Relena first, then Moira. She'd  
need Relena to soothe her after he told her the news; after all, like  
Duo, she'd been thinking about going back in time to see her papa. He  
glanced at his watch. Moira would definitely be home from the labs  
now, wondering where he was as dinner cooled on the table.

Closing the door behind him, Duo took out his cell phone,  
unfolded it, and muttered Relena's name, activating the speed-dial  
function.

"Hi, Relena. It's me...no, I'm okay, just really tired and  
shocked...you don't know what it is? Huh. I thought you would, but  
anyway, get to the hospital, and when you get here, I'll sit you down  
because believe me, you need to sit down for this..."

"Where are you? It's almost eight! I had to eat first because I skipped lunch today!  
I thought you got run over or something!" Moira shook a fist at the videophone, even though it was  
useless; after all, Dad couldn't see her. It made her more agitated  
to be yelling at a screen reading "Sound Only".

"Calm down, hon," Dad said. "Sheesh, I get an earful as soon  
as you know it's me. Yes, I'm fine. I'm not in the hospital because  
I'm hurt. But I need _you_ to get to the hospital. I'm on the third  
floor." 

"Why do I need to be in the hospital?" she asked. Dad had  
cured the disease that killed Papa so long ago, and eventually,  
they'd be preparing for the time trip back sixty-five years to use  
it, right after she graduated within a few weeks. "I thought the time  
machine was in the labs where you worked."

"For one thing," Dad said, laughing strangely (Moira thought  
it sounded like he was in shock), "we're not going back in time  
anymore. So you're not going to lose your friends or anything."

"What?" As she'd grown older, Moira hadn't wanted to go back  
in time. AC 196 was so...well, old, for lack of a better word, and  
even though Dad always said she was conceived in AC 196 (the official  
birthdate on any ID she had read June 3rd, AC 246), she'd only known  
the world that was at least fifty years later. She'd gotten people  
like Audrey, Amy, and Gwen to hang out with in school, and leaving  
them behind was unthinkable.

"I'll explain everything at the hospital. Just get here. And  
remember to wear your helmet. I don't want to hear about your brains  
splattered all over the road."

"All right, all right," Moira groaned. She'd worn her helmet  
since she'd gotten her scooter, and it wasn't like that was going to  
change anytime soon. Especially since Nana Relena caught her without  
it last year when she was riding only a block down and told her that  
protecting her head was much more important that worrying about how a  
helmet flattened her ponytail.

"Cool beans, sweetie. See you in a bit."

Again, Moira's collar was twisted. One end was up, the corner sticking out behind her ear,  
and the other lay flat against her polo shirt. Duo sighed, reaching out and pulling the wayward half down. 

"You're gonna ruin your clothes if you keep doing this." He  
flicked one of her braids behind her shoulder as she stepped out of  
the elevator.

"Hello to you too, Dad. I'd have gotten here faster but the  
parking structure sucks. Took me forever to find a spot. Oh, hey,  
Nana," Moira said, looking behind Duo. He turned to see Relena  
getting up from her seat and walking slowly towards them. Now in her  
eighties, Duo wondered how she didn't break.

Amazing to see how time can pass, he thought. When he saw her in  
Heero's time, she'd been his age, with honey blonde hair reaching to  
her waist. Now Relena's hair had turned white, and was kept up in a  
sensible knot at the nape of her neck. Liver spots dotted her  
wrinkled hands, and she moved stiffly now. Otherwise, she was the  
same Relena he'd met back then; still ladylike, and still able to  
live on her own after her husband had died.

"I'm so glad to see you, Moira," Relena said. "Was it  
difficult getting to the hospital? I was about to tell Duo to have  
you take the bus..."

Moira shook her head. "No, it was okay, thanks. Dad, what's  
this about? Did something happen? Why aren't we going back in time?"  
she whispered, tugging Duo's sleeve.

Duo took her hand and started walking down the hall. "Well,"  
he began, looking over his shoulder to make sure Relena was able to  
keep up, "it turns out that Papa's been here with us all along."

"Duo!" Relena chided. "Shouldn't you sit her down before  
telling all of this?"

His daughter's eyes widened. "You mean he's..."

"No, not dead. Very alive, actually." Duo didn't slow his  
pace, even though the other two had to run to keep up, Moira's  
sneakers slapping the linoleum tiles as they went. "They put him in  
coldsleep, so actually, he's been waiting here. Come on." He  
tightened his hold on Moira's wrist to get her to move faster.

"Who's they'?" Moira stopped in the middle of thehallway. "And what's the big rush?  
Are we going to his room or something?" Her eyes narrowed at Duo through thick bangs as she  
crossed her arms. "You should explain _everything_ before we start  
running again," she said, her lips pressing together. Duo groaned  
inwardly, recognizing the familiar expression; it meant that they  
weren't going anywhere until she clearly knew why they had to go. 

"In order," Duo said, making a short slash in the air with  
both hands towards Moira and Relena, "Dr. J and Professor G, whom  
you've known since you were born, because Papa's disoriented and I  
snuck out while he was napping to get both you and Relena before he  
wakes up, and finally, yes, we're running to his room." Moira didn't  
budge, but her eyes lightened to a smoky blue-gray in surprise.

"H-he's been...revived already?" she asked. "How long has he been awake? Did he age or anything? Does he _remember_ me?"

Duo nodded. "Yes, a few hours, no, and I should think so." He  
took Moira's wrist. "Let's go, kid," he said, tugging.

Moira still didn't move, but she swayed from side to side. "I  
think I need to sit down," she said weakly, and pitched forward into  
Duo's arms.

"I knew you should have done that," Relena said reproachfully, clutching her purse. "Will she be all right?"

Duo hefted Moira up, placing her head on his shoulder.  
Fifteen years old, and she still weighed like she was ten. And yet  
the amount of food she ate at dinner sometimes was downright  
frightening.

"Yeah, I think she'll be fine," he replied. "Heero's room  
isn't too far off, so when we get there we'll just put her on a chair  
until she comes to. Man, I didn't think she'd react this way..."  
Tightening his lips worriedly, Duo started to walk, but Relena  
stopped him.

"I think it would be best if you put her on a cot instead. If  
you'd like, I'll ask for one," she said.

"I don't think she's staying the night, but..." Duo's  
sentence hung in mid-air when he saw the look on Relena's face, with  
the ghost of a smile on her lipsticked mouth that meant she knew  
something he didn't. "Yeah, sure. One cot for room 1120? The room's a  
double, so Moira and I can flip a coin for the empty bed."

The old woman nodded graciously. "Certainly, Duo."

When Heero opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Duo  
sitting on his bed, which was what he'd seen when he went to take a  
nap in the first place.

"I can't believe you haven't moved already," he muttered.

"Oh, I did." Duo grinned. "I had to get the others."

"...the others?" He saw an old woman come into his field of  
vision. He didn't think he'd seen her before, but there was something  
familiar about her, the way she carried herself. She reached out,  
touching his arm with a cool hand.

"It's me, Relena," she said, stroking his arm. "It's so good  
to see you again." The touching felt...well, nice, for lack of a  
better word. With her touch, Heero knew that at least he was awake.

"You're so...so _old_," he croaked. Now that he knew that itwas Relena, he could see the resemblance, only now she'd aged. Liver spots dotted her wrinkled face, and her hair had gone white, but as  
she laughed, it was clear that this was Relena Darlian in front of  
him right now.

"I should hope so, Heero. After all, I am eighty-two years old." She shook her head, still chuckling.

Heero wanted to shake his head too, but in disbelief and maybe a little shock. Duo had _told_  
him that things were different, but it was one thing to have Duo  
tell him it was now AC 261, but it completely another to have the  
evidence in front of him in the shape of _Relena_, now in her  
eighties. At least Duo still looked like Duo, even though he'd aged  
about fifteen years.

Even though his hair was shorter, he still wore it tied back, if not  
braided. He was the only constant that Heero could really grip onto  
because the change hadn't been that drastic. He hadn't seen the baby  
yet, but she wasn't a baby anymore. All Heero knew about her so far  
was that she allegedly looked a lot like him.

"She ages pretty well, though," Duo said, winking at Relena  
as she dissolved into giggles. "Not bad, not bad. Moira's here too,  
but," here Duo sucked in his breath, steepling his hands together  
nervously, "she fainted when I told her the news."

"Where is she?" Heero asked. Duo nodded to the right, sliding  
an arm under Heero's shoulders and propping him up onto the pillows  
so that he could look over the edge of the bed. A girl lay sideways  
on a cot, halfway curled up under the blankets, dark braids trailing  
after her head on the pillow. Thick, messy bangs had fallen over her  
forehead, revealing a long white scar on her temple that just missed  
an arched eyebrow.

"She just turned fifteen," Duo whispered, pulling Heero  
closer to his chest. "What do you think?"

"I think she's small. And thin."

Duo laughed. "Yeah, well, nothing we can really do about  
that. Whatever she eats goes through her. But don't you think she  
takes after you?"

Duo was right; she did take after him. She had his facial  
features, though with longer lashes, and the face shape was  
definitely from Duo.

"Yeah, she does, but I knew she would already," Heero said.  
He hadn't doubted that since he'd held her in his arms as a baby  
after she'd been lifted from the artificial womb. The dark, soft hair  
and the long fingers uncurling from her fists had been clear signs  
that she was definitely his.

"She would have been awake if Duo sat her down." Relena went  
over to the cot, taking the chair beside it and sitting down. "The  
poor thing; as soon as Duo told her, she fell forward." She looked  
reproachfully at Duo.

"I'm sorry, Relena, but I was in such a hurry. I thought  
Moira would take it all right," he said, laughing. "She'll be fine,  
anyway, as soon as she comes around. School and work have been hard  
for her, especially around this time of year, so she was pretty tired  
when I got to her."

As Relena pulled the blankets more snugly around Moira's  
shoulders, the girl stirred, curling more into herself on the cot.  
That Heero also recognized; when he went to check on her during naps,  
she'd always been in that position inside of her crib, curled like a  
newly growing leaf.

"Does she know about me, Duo?"

The older man's eyes softened into a deep indigo blue, and he looked  
fondly at the cot. "Yeah, she knows. Relena and I told her some  
stories about you, and Relena has a disk with some pictures and some  
albums. You know what? Remember that picture that they took of you?  
The one that was supposed to be for the labs you established?" Duo's  
voice was that of a child holding something behind his back, like a  
bouquet of flowers and asking someone to take a guess.

"What about it?" Heero asked. He couldn't understand the fuss over  
that; all right, so he was smiling in it, something that he normally  
didn't do, but that was because Duo had just appeared behind the  
photographer at that moment. Later, there were other pictures that  
also had him smiling, though maybe not as openly as that one.  
Frankly, he thought those looked better.

"Well, when Moira was two, I caught her sleeping with it like it was  
a baby blanket, so I had it framed. It's been on her desk ever since;  
she used to kiss it goodnight when she was little. Even now she says  
that's her favorite picture," Duo said.

Heero snorted. "There were better ones than that. Why didn't you give  
her one of those?"

"We showed her others," Relena said, smiling indulgently, "but she  
liked that one the best because you were smiling. You really should  
do that more often."

Heero snorted again, still staring at the cot and its occupant. If  
only Moira had been awake and conscious right now, then he could  
really see what she'd turned into while he spent all these years  
asleep. Right now, he didn't have much to go on.

"Duo? Relena? What is she like?"

Relena smoothed out her skirts before reaching over and rewrapping  
one of the hair ties at the end of Moira's braids. "That's a broad  
question, Heero. Well, she's going to graduate in a few weeks, is  
that right, Duo? Yes...she's attending a science charter school right  
now. Then she'll be going to the Catherine Blair Institute of Applied  
Physics for a degree while working at the laboratories." She finished  
winding the bright purple elastic with a snap, gently replacing  
Moira's braid on the pillow.

"The labs were established about thirty years ago," Duo  
said. "Moira's in physics, and Blair is pretty damn good for that, in  
my opinion."

"Why physics...?" Heero had always thought about her going into  
biology, the same field that he and Duo were in. Duo grinned.

"I guess you could say it had to do with how _she_ was in the first place. You know how physics is the how and why of everything in the universe? She's always been curious about everything since she was little. There was this one time..."

The inside of Moira's mouth tasted bitter and cottony. That  
was the first thing she realized when she woke up. She lifted her  
head and saw Nana Relena sitting next to her.

"Oh, you're awake. Good," Nana whispered, getting up from her  
chair and slightly bending down. "How are you feeling, dear?"

Moira nodded. "Okay, I guess. Maybe thirsty. Nana, where are  
we?"

"I'll get you some water," Nana replied, rising out of her  
chair. "We're in the hospital, in your papa's room."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Duo, she's awake now," Nana said, louder this  
time while Moira lifted her head to see where she was. She'd been on  
a cot all along, in this small hospital room. Funny, she'd forgotten  
how bright and ugly the lights in hospital rooms were; it'd been a  
long time since she'd been in one, visiting a friend. She saw Nana  
motioning to Dad before stepping out of the room.

"Hey, hey, rise and shine, sweetie." Dad's voice was bright  
and a little too cheery for someone who'd been just as shocked as she  
was. "We've been waiting forever for you to wake up."

"What time is it?" Moira asked. The window outside displayed  
a dark night sky; that wasn't new, because of course, the sun had  
just set when she'd rolled her scooter out of the driveway.

"It's about nine," Dad said, looking down over the edge of  
the bed he was sitting on. "You were out for a while." He'd taken off  
his lab coat, and was now sitting cross-legged in his black  
turtleneck and khakis. Moira heard the sound of blankets being tossed  
to the side, and Dad reached over, saying, "Hold on. Let me help you  
up, okay?"

Oh, that's right, she thought. Papa's here, isn't he?

"I can get up by myself." Moira blinked twice. That was  
weird; she'd imagined Papa's voice to be kind and soft, although  
quiet. The quiet was there, but it didn't sound nice, but cranky and  
bored. She'd also expected his voice to be full and rich, and  
well...it was nasal. Not all that nasal, but she could tell that it  
was there. She slowly sat up to see Dad gently pulling someone onto  
his shoulder with a head of messy dark brown hair and wearing a  
hospital gown so loose it looked like it'd fall right off if the  
strings in the back weren't tied tightly enough. She pointed at him  
and raised an eyebrow at Dad, while mouthing the word "Papa" in a  
question.

Dad nodded.

Moira felt light-headed again, this time accompanied by the  
sensation of her heart pounding so hard and fast that she thought  
it'd jump out of her chest if it could. That was one way out of her  
current nervousness, have her heart burst forth from her chest and  
leave her twitching on the cot in a growing puddle of blood.

Not that she _didn't_ want to meet Papa. But there wasn't anyway to get rid of the tension and suspense that still hadn't goneafter passing out.

Then Papa lifted his head and looked Moira straight in the  
eye. She gasped; the action had been so sudden that it felt like  
someone dumped her headfirst into a bucket of ice without warning.

For a few moments she couldn't do anything but sit there with  
her mouth wide open. There was a comforting familiarity with looking  
at his photo, but seeing him in front of her in the first time was  
such an overload that she couldn't even figure out what to say, with  
the exception of an inane observation of his eyes being a hell of a  
lot bluer than hers.

"Hi," she squeaked. That was it, just "hi." Not really much,  
but something. This was terrific; she'd rehearsed over and over in  
her head in daydreams about what she'd say to Papa if she met him,  
and all she managed was one lousy word.

Papa frowned, turning to Dad. "She doesn't always gape like  
that, right?"

Dad chuckled. "No, Heero, she doesn't." Moira felt her face  
growing hot. She felt like bashing her head against the wall, but  
that probably wouldn't have helped.

"Good," Papa said. His voice was so monotonous; it was going  
to take a lot of time to get used to, because it was so different  
from what Moira thought it was originally. Then, turning to Moira  
again: "You look like you're retarded."

"Hey!" Moira snapped. "I just found out a few hours ago! I  
mean, about you and being in coldsleep. It's been a long day, but  
just because I have temporarily delayed reactions doesn't mean I'm  
frickin' retarded," she grumbled.

The only response she got was a disdainful snort.  
Fortunately, Nana appeared before Moira could blurt out an  
angry, "what was that supposed to mean?" and handed her a paper cup  
of water, murmuring, "Here you are."

"I...I...thanks, Nana," she said, taking the cup in both  
hands and drinking. Seeing the old woman still standing near the  
door, she asked, "How come you're not sitting back down?"

Nana smiled. "It's getting late, and I should be going now. I  
need to go shopping tomorrow for groceries."

"I could drive you back if you wanted," Dad said, beginning  
to get off the bed, but Nana held up a hand.

"That won't be necessary, Duo. I'll be perfectly fine taking  
the bus." She bent down, gently hugging Moira. "See you tomorrow.  
Hopefully I can bring something for Heero then. The food here must be  
terrible."

"Safe trip back, Relena." Dad waved. Moira smiled slightly,  
also waving.

"See you later, Nana."

"You should rest." Duo ruffled Heero's hair, marveling at the  
softness of the dark strands between his fingers. Professor G had  
been right about the coldsleep revival process; even though Duo had  
worried that there would be some irreversible effects, it was, as the  
good professor said, "basically like defrosting a chicken. Except the  
chicken is a person. Nothing should go wrong."

"Get off the bed first," Heero grumbled, weakly trying to  
shove Duo off. "There's not enough space for both of us."

Duo smiled, pulling Heero over and pecking him on the cheek. "I know, but I don't think I _can _get off right now. That means I'd have to leave you."

"Don't be an idiot. We're still in the same room. You're not  
leaving me," Heero said, still in that irritable tone, though he  
shifted closer to Duo.

"I know," Duo said, wrapping an arm around Heero's waist, letting his fingertips rest on the younger man's hip. God, had he  
always been this skinny? He could feel the bone nearly jutting out  
from the thin cloth of the hospital gown Heero was wearing. Now that  
he was here in Duo's arms, Duo knew he wasn't dreaming. Heero might  
still be thin and weak, but he was, as Duo saw from the chest's  
rhythmic rise and fall, here and _alive_.

Alive. Thinking about the word alone made his eyes prickle with tears. He'd been slowly losing hope on ever getting to see Heero after ten years had gone by with no developments toward a cure in  
sight.

"How long will the therapy for this be?" Heero asked,  
bringing Duo back.

"A month, no more than that. You'll spend the first two weeks  
here, so we can monitor your condition. The remaining two will be  
trips to the hospital three times a week for your IV treatments."

"IV treatments?"

"That's right. IV treatments and pills. Side effects aren't  
going to be nice: fatigue, nausea, lack of appetite, and in some of  
the worst test cases, delirium. Some days you won't feel like getting  
out of bed at all," Duo said, running a fingertip up and down Heero's  
hip. "But once it's over, it's over."

Silence passed between them for a long time, as they lay  
together on the bed. He could see another dark head peeping out from  
behind the pillows; Moira, still fast asleep on her cot. The poor  
girl was exhausted—so far, she'd been sleeping like a rock.

Heero turned to look at the cot too. "I don't think she likes  
me," he said, voice quiet, but now without its disgruntled edge.

Duo chuckled. "Oh, come on. She loves you. Maybe telling her  
that she looked retarded wasn't a good start."

"Will she get used to me?" Heero asked. "We've only just met,  
and who knows if there's time..."

"There _will_ be time." Duo's voice came out thick and harsh,and he felt tears stinging his eyes this time. "There _will_ be time," he said, in a firmer tone, "because you're staying."

Heero looked up at him, a faint smile playing on his lips.  
Reaching up to stroke Duo's hair, he said, "I told you I'd wait for  
you, didn't I?"

"...Yeah, you did."

"Duo?"

"Yeah?"

"I'd like to sleep now. Could you get off my bed?"

"Okay, I'll get off," Duo said, leaning over and briefly  
kissing Heero on the lips. "You can tuck yourself in, right?"

"Go to bed, Duo," Heero muttered. Duo walked stiffly over to  
turn off the lights, stepping around the IV pole, and then went over  
to the waiting empty bed that was three feet away from Heero's. He  
lay down, not bothering to pull the blankets over himself, and closed  
his eyes.

It had been an exhausting, draining, but _very_ good day.


	2. Chapter 2

True North  
Chapter 2  
Pairing: 2x1  
Category: AU  
Warnings: OC child  
Disclaimers: Gundam Wing is copyright Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu  
Agency. "The Eternal Rhapsody" is copyright Midori Saiha/Ringo Zaidan.  
Beta read by the lovely Diamroyal.

"Can I get out of the wheelchair now?"

Duo groaned. "We haven't even reached the parking lot. Are  
you sure you don't want to wait until we get to the car?"

Heero shook his head. "No, I want to try walking by myself."  
Today, he was finally leaving the hospital and going home. He still  
had to go back in a few days for another IV treatment, and there were  
at least three bottles of pills that he had to take daily, but he was  
going home, and that was the important part.

"All right." Duo stopped the wheelchair and came around,  
holding his arms out. "Take my hands." When Heero didn't move, Duo  
thrust them further out. "C'mon. You can walk, but at least let me  
help you out."

Heero reluctantly took both of Duo's wrists, and hoisted  
himself up. The first few steps were uncertain; he tottered and  
nearly fell into Duo's chest, but soon, he got it and was walking by  
himself, if slowly. The gene therapy had been taxing, as Duo had  
warned, and he didn't have the strength to walk around the hospital  
floors while trailing the stupid IV pole behind him.

At least the hard part was over; he still felt under the weather, but  
it was much better than hunkering over the toilet at least three  
times a day, vomiting whatever he'd managed to eat. One invaluable  
lesson he'd learned; hospital food was a lot nastier going _up_ than  
it was the normal way. The delirium hadn't been at all welcome, first  
the crazy energy surges followed by extreme sleepiness, and the  
particularly vivid hallucinations. He'd woken up from one episode  
only to find a frightened, wide-eyed Moira peering out from behind  
Duo while clutching tightly to his lab coat.

No, Heero wasn't going to miss the hallucinations very much.

The first thing he'd have to do once he had more strength was to get  
some clothes that fit him. Right now, he was borrowing an old gray  
sweatshirt and black track pants from Duo. The sneakers he had on  
were a size too large and they made an annoying shuffling sound  
whenever he moved. Duo's clothes were also too big; they'd had to  
roll up the sleeves and pant legs before they left the hospital room  
at least five times before there wasn't any risk of Heero tripping  
over himself. But they'd do for now, at least until Moira's  
graduation ceremony. Then he'd have to find a good button-down shirt  
and dress pants.

The car wasn't parked very far; Duo had been lucky today, apparently,  
and soon they were both inside, driving back home, the white blocky  
hospital growing smaller and smaller in the side mirror.

"You hungry?" Duo asked, flipping on his turn signal.

"No. Why?"

"It's almost dinnertime, and if you want, I can ask Moira to set  
another place at the table. She's been home since noon because today  
was her last exam."

"I see," Heero said. "No, don't bother, my appetite still isn't  
there."

Duo made an understanding noise. "All right. I'll ask Moira to set  
something aside for you anyway. I'd like you to get something down  
tonight, okay? You're not vomiting anymore, are you?"

"No."

"Good. No nausea?"

"Duo, I'm fine!" Heero snapped. "Stop fussing, will you? I'll eat  
when I feel like it."

Duo sighed. "Look," he said, "you need to get some nutrients in  
there. You'll recover faster that way. I know your appetite isn't  
much, but try to eat something, or you'll die of starvation before  
you even recover."

"Fine," Heero snorted, turning his head to stare out the window. They  
drove the rest of the way home quietly.

The tomatoes slid out of the can, red pulpy things whose skins came  
off when Moira prodded them with her spoon at the bottom of the pot.  
Today she was cooking pasta; they hadn't had it for a long time, and  
she figured it was about time she fixed that.

"...'cause I'm best known for failure, best known for giving up,  
there's nothing that I can say that could matter..." she sang along  
with the music coming out of the Seashell in her right ear. Since it  
was the very last day of school before her graduation, she felt like  
it was a punk' day, and New Found Glory always got her moving. Who  
cared if they were ancient? Most of today's music was a crapfest  
anyway, with the exception of The Shippers, Sara Campbell, and Nick  
Watanabe Harris.

She poured some cream into the waiting pot on the stove, stirred it  
until it all mixed well and then pressed the "LOW/WARM" setting on  
the LCD panel. While the sauce cooked, she filled a larger pot with  
water, threw in some salt and put it on the burner next to the sauce,  
pressing "HIGH". It'd take a while for the water to boil, so until  
she could add the pasta, she danced along the kitchen floor,  
pretending to be the lead singer with the wooden spoon as a  
microphone.

"Let's get down to business now, I'm saving myself the trouble in the  
end..." she shouted, jumping up and down to the beat of the guitar  
riffs. She almost had this song down, just some more practicing and  
she'd have it cold.

Singing and dancing in front of the stove started when she was  
thirteen, when she'd gotten the Seashell that was worn on only one  
ear instead of two, along with a copy of the latest Bambi Bouquet mp3  
stick. While Moira hated Bambi with the passion of a million fiery  
white-hot suns, she would have surgically bolted the Seashell to her  
ear if it was at all possible.

Her favorite part was coming up, and she took a deep breath,  
squeezing the wooden spoon so hard splinters were about to dig into  
her palms.

"I'm! The! One! To! Blame! For! It! Yes! I'm! The one! To blaaame!"  
she yelled, in a voice so loud she felt her vocal cords rupturing.

"To blame for what?"

Moira whirled around, seeing Dad standing in the doorway with his  
hands on his hips, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a grin. She  
screamed.

"W-when did you get back!?" she stammered. "H-how much did you see?"

Dad held an invisible spoon in his hands, pretending to sing while  
swinging his hips from to side to side. "I saw that," he  
said. "Anyway, not too loud. I just drove Papa here and he's going  
upstairs to rest."

Moira retied her apron strings. "Um, okay, got that. And I do _not_  
swivel my hips like that," she muttered.

"Yes you do," Dad said. "The first boy you take home gets to see a  
picture of you dancing with a sheep apron over your capri pants," he  
said slyly, "right after the embarrassing fairy video."

She growled. "You wouldn't." Dad shrugged his shoulders.

"There's something boiling on the stove. Better check it," he said.  
Moira shrieked, running over. The pot for the pasta was about to  
bubble over the edge, and she hurriedly poured in some extra water,  
allowing herself a small "phew!" as the foam subsided.

"Should I cook some for Papa?" she asked. Dad nodded.

"He's not gonna eat now, but I'll make sure he does tonight. After I  
show him the school photo where you tried to cut a heart into your  
bangs."

"Get out of the kitchen!" Moira yelled, swinging a bare foot at Dad's  
retreating leg. Assuming the sauce didn't burn while she dumped in  
the pasta and stirred it, dinner would be ready within fifteen  
minutes.

The keypad beeped softly as Duo punched in the code for the shower:  
hot water, full strength, from the shower head only. Hopefully this  
time he didn't accidentally pick up Moira's shampoo; when he did  
that, Professor G had made some comments about how he'd thought there  
was a cheerleader in the room until Duo sat next to him at a meeting.  
Personally, he didn't think lavender jasmine shampoo was all that  
strong, and at least Moira didn't have that godawful stuff with  
glitter.

As the water poured down on him, Duo realized that he'd need to take  
some time to guide Heero around the house. In Heero's time, they  
didn't have controls for the shower nor the laundry machines. The  
sinks and toilets still worked the same way, with sensors, and were  
really only more streamlined.

And that was just the plumbing.

The computers, for example, were now thinner, probably no thicker  
than a few sheets of paper. The newest laptops now could be folded  
down, then over twice until they were the size of a deck of cards.  
Moira was getting one for a graduation present. It made sense, since  
she'd use it for years, and she was pretty damn good with doing  
upgrades on her own.

He picked up the shampoo (the right one this time, he could tell by  
the gold label) and lathered it up in his hands. One advantage of  
having shorter hair was that it took less shampoo to clean. Duo had  
cut his hair after going back to his own time with the baby in tow,  
because the braid had reminded him too much of Heero. He'd always  
liked Duo's hair, though he'd been hard-pressed to admit it,  
especially when the damn braid had knocked over a beaker. Now, Duo  
didn't know whether or not to start braiding his hair again, but he'd  
gotten used to the ponytail, and it was a lot easier, though he could  
pick up braiding easily if he wanted to.

After all, he taught Moira to braid her own hair as soon as it got  
long enough. That hadn't been too long ago, maybe when she was eight  
or nine.

There was a knock on the door when he was rinsing off the  
conditioner.

"Dad, time to eat," Moira said from behind the bathroom door.

"Wow, didn't know you were that quick, kiddo. Look, I'll be down in  
about five, let me get some clothes on. Oh, and Moira?" he asked,  
stepping out of the shower.

"Yeah?"

Duo grabbed a towel and started drying his hair. "Would you mind  
showing Papa around the house sometime this week? You know, getting  
him familiar with the appliances and all that?" She and Heero hadn't  
gotten off to a good start, he thought, and now that Heero was  
recovering more from the gene therapy, hopefully they could start  
over again.

There was a long pause, and then, a hesitant "okay," from Moira  
before he heard her walking down the stairs.

"Thanks, sweetie," he called out.

Everything in this house was new. New furniture in the dining  
and living rooms, new light fixtures that were built into the house  
so that there were no lamps at all, and the plants outside in the  
garden—the ones that Heero recognized, at least—had grown taller and  
thicker.

The carpeting was the same beige color he'd seen last time, but it  
was softer, even though Duo said that they'd have to actually _try_  
if they wanted to stain it. Moira had happily demonstrated this  
earlier by taking a glass of juice and dumping it on the stairs.  
After she'd wiped it up, it was like she'd never spilled anything in  
the first place.

The mop, he didn't like so much. Moira had yanked him out of the way  
before this shin-high machine rolled in, spraying water within a half  
a meter's radius before proceeding to cover the area with a thick  
layer of foam. Then it mopped everything up in a widening circle, and  
smoothly rolled back out.

Now, Moira bent over the dishwasher, pulling out a plate. "Here,  
check this out," she said, passing it to Heero. The white china was  
now spotless, gleaming in the sunlight.

"That's all sonic waves at work there," she continued. "No water, no  
soap. I've never used those to clean dishes before, but Nana says  
that they're not as effective anyway."

"How long does it take to clean?" Heero asked. "An hour?"

Moira snorted, taking the dish and putting it in the cupboard. "Not  
even. Fifteen minutes. Put the dishes in, press the button, and  
that's it. Come on, I'll show you how the TV works," she said,  
walking briskly to the living room. The TV itself hung on the wall  
like a painting—that was nothing new—but when Heero was about to ask  
where the remote control was, Moira shook her head, smirking, and  
snapped her fingers.

The TV switched on automatically.

"It's keyed to our movements," Moira explained smoothly, ignoring his  
surprised expression. "Snapping your fingers turns it on. Snapping  
twice turns it off. Now, this is how you change channels."

She turned to face the screen. For a few seconds, she didn't look  
like she was doing anything except blinking randomly. But then the  
current channel, a news program, changed to a kids' show where  
brightly colored things danced about in the grass.

"You blink if you want to change the channel. It works like a remote  
control in that you don't blink fifty-six times to get, oh, channel  
fifty-six. What you do is you blink five times," she demonstrated  
this, closing and opening her eyes deliberately, "then you pause for  
a second, and then blink six times. That's five-six."

"It's different if you want to scan or change the volume," she  
continued. "For scanning channels, you look from side to side. To go  
up, you move your eyes to the right, like this. And then, to go down,  
you move to the left. Volume is the same way, except you move your  
eyes up and down." She cocked her head at Heero, a few strands of  
loose hair falling over one side of her face. "You think you can try  
it now?"

He nodded, moving to stand in front of the screen. Assuming the  
channels hadn't changed on him, forty-two should work. It was a  
documentary station, one that Duo had dismissed as dry and boring as  
all hell. That hadn't stopped him from plopping down on the couch  
whenever Heero had been watching it.

He blinked rapidly four times, paused, and then blinked twice. The  
brightly colored dancing things disappeared, only to be replaced with  
loud moans and a naked woman writhing on a bed.

"Yes, yes, yesss...keep doing that, keep doing that, don't stop," she  
panted. "I can't believe it feels so good, don't stop..."

Heero heard a strangled giggle to his right, and he glanced over.  
Moira was bent over double, holding a hand over her mouth, shaking  
with laughter.

"What? This isn't funny!" he said.

She shook her head, snapping her fingers twice. The screen went  
black, and she straightened up, smoothing her T-shirt over her  
stomach.

"Show me how you blinked at the TV," she said, still giggling. He  
blinked the channel at her, and she clucked her tongue.

"You blinked too fast," she said, now without laughing. "It has  
to be a complete movement for it to read properly. Guess the TV  
didn't pick up some of those blinks, because normally forty-two's  
Documentary Central. Dad loves it to death."

"He does?"

"Oh, totally. If it's not CNN, it's that. C'mon," Moira said, walking  
briskly ahead, "there's the bathroom stuff to show you too."

The weather outside was _fantastic_. It was currently seventy-five  
degrees out, with miles of pure blue sky. Moira checked the clock on  
her cell phone. She had about twenty minutes before Amy came to pick  
her up to get their graduation robes.

Hanging out on the roof seemed like a perfect way to kill  
time. Besides, she could say hi to Amy before she rang the doorbell.  
She pushed the window in her room open, grabbing her sneakers in her  
other hand. The shingles could be hot, and she didn't want to burn  
her feet. Then she climbed outside.

She pulled on her sneakers, tying double knots in the laces  
so that they wouldn't come undone, because tripping on this roof and  
falling down was not her idea of fun.

"Wow," she murmured in awe, standing up. The leaves on the  
trees had long unfurled, so now below the sky was a lacy canopy of  
green. It wasn't really good as seeing it from the school roof, which  
was taller, but it was still pretty neat. She'd been up here for  
years and still felt thrilled about seeing everything from a higher  
place. It looked so different.

Different. Like how things were now.

One, Moira had a _summer_ to look forward to. The last time  
she had summer was when she was eleven. Just thinking about it made  
her so giddy and bouncy that Audrey had to punch her in the shoulder  
during class to stop. But it was so exciting to think about getting  
to sleep in late and have nothing to do for a month and a half! It  
meant more hanging out with Amy, Audrey and Gwen on things that  
weren't related to studying, more time to take pictures with the  
digital camera she got from Nana for Christmas, and more time to  
putter around on the roof, from just doing stuff on the laptop to  
taking out the guitar and playing until she felt like her fingers  
were falling off.

This was good because once she started going to Blair  
Institute, she didn't think she'd be really able to do all of those  
things. Maybe the guitar, because it was a good excuse to unwind  
between studying, but the camera would have to sit for a while. Hell,  
she needed to spend more time with Amy and Gwen, because they'd be  
going to different schools this fall—both in the colonies—and they'd  
only be able to see each other online.

Moira wasn't that scared of going to college. At least this  
time she looked more like an adult—when she'd gotten into high  
school, anyone could tell she was a kid, which sucked. Hopefully this  
time she could blend in age-wise.

Another thing she could do this summer was try and get to  
know Papa. She walked further on the rooftop quietly and peeked into  
Dad's window. The bed looked empty, so either Papa conked out on the  
couch after she'd shown him around or he was somewhere else in the  
house.

Hope he's not too upset over the TV, she thought. She _really_ didn't mean to laugh when he got the porn, but she couldn't help it. Still, just thinking about his expression had her giggling again. The whole thing with him wasn't going too smoothly, and she needed to fix that. But he was so hard to get used to; the expectations she'd had didn't fit whatsoever.

She'd asked Nana and Dad two questions when she was little:  
one, if Papa would know what she looked like, and two, if Papa loved  
her. The answers were always yes and yes, no matter how many times  
she asked. Finally, Dad had told her that Papa loved her _very_ much,  
which put the whole thing to rest. So when Papa came here, at least  
he knew what she looked like, though he said that she'd looked  
retarded when she gaped, but she didn't think he liked her. Granted,  
he'd been loopy thanks to coming out of what amounted to six decades  
of sleep, but he'd been home for about a week and she thought he'd  
have shown some signs of interest in what his kid had been up to.

Dad told her to be patient, that Papa was still adjusting to  
being sixty-four to sixty-five years down from his own time, and that  
things would fall into place sooner or later. All Moira could tell  
was that he didn't really try to know her, and there were a few times  
where he seemed all out irritated with her.

It was beginning to frustrate her tremendously. _She_ was  
willing, in fact, she wanted to know _everything_ about him, now that  
he was here and not in the picture on her desk, and there wasn't much  
on the other end.

Unfortunately, she couldn't do much about it right now. Not only was  
Papa recovering from his illness, there was the graduation ceremony  
to worry about. This year, they'd decided to let the students have  
charge of part of the commencement, so what happened was that they'd  
elected her, along with Steve Barlow, to speak at the beginning. She  
had a vague outline of the speech written down, but there were only a  
few days left; today was Thursday, and the graduation ceremony was  
the following Tuesday.

The window to her left whisked open, making her jump.

"What are you doing up there?" Papa asked. Moira gulped; he didn't  
look happy.

"Uh...just chillin' on the roof. I do it all the time," she said,  
trying to sound as casual as possible. "It's a lot of fun. You can  
see a ton of stuff from up—"

Papa cut her off. "Get down. Now."

"It's not dangerous or anything," she explained. "Unless you walk up  
to the edge on _purpose_, it's pretty safe up here. C'mon, I'll show  
you," she said, reaching out to him.

"No. Get _down_," he said, this time beginning to sound really pissed  
off. Moira put her hands on her hips, and opened her mouth to tell  
him that he didn't have the slightest idea of what he was talking  
about when she heard Amy pull up onto their driveway and honk twice.

"Well, I'm getting down now, happy?" she grumbled. Papa snorted and  
turned away from the window. Moira crawled into her room and headed  
downstairs and out, where Amy was waiting.

"Hey," Amy said, checking her rearview mirror, "on the roof again,  
huh?"

"Yeah." Moira slid in, buckling her seat belt. "God, I hope getting  
our robes doesn't take too long."

Amy shook her head, making her blonde hair swing from side to  
side. "Shouldn't. Check the back for me, will you? I'm about to pull  
out." When Moira didn't say anything, Amy turned to her. "You okay?  
You're real quiet."

"Uh...yeah. Just a little argument with the folks," she replied  
absently. "Someone's a little upset about me being up on the roof."

Amy guffawed. "Jeez, you've been doing that since _forever_. Kinda  
late for your dad to be doing that now."

"Eh, not Dad, but I hope it blows over." Moira stared out the window,  
trying to forget the last few minutes ever happened. After all, she  
had that speech to work on, and she didn't want it to sound   
pissy.

Dinner that night was not too comfortable for anyone. It had started  
out fine, but when Moira brought up getting her graduation robes for  
the ceremony, that was when Heero put down his fork and asked Duo  
about their daughter spending her time up on the roof.

"Well, I never had a problem with it," Duo said, pausing to take a  
bite of salad. "It's not like she's tried to walk off the edge on  
purpose."

"That's still not safe. What if she slips?" Heero asked. Moira rolled  
her eyes, sipping her water and shoving a forkful of fish into her  
mouth.

"The shingles are rough. Besides, they have labs in summer where they  
go out at night to hang out on the school roof. There's no point in  
freaking out over her staying on the roof here when she spends time  
on one that's two stories higher." Duo shrugged, mopping up the sauce  
on his plate with bread.

Moira exhaled loudly after swallowing her fish. "So I got my  
graduation robes today, and I tried them on, and they're _so_ long.  
Like, _really_ long. They reach the floor on me and I think I could  
trip. But the cap fits okay and the tassel's all perky and cute and I  
even got a special ribbon to wear around my neck because I'm speaking  
at the ceremony and of _course_ I got the special silver cord because  
I got good grades and—"

"Don't change the subject." Heero's words were sharp and abrupt,  
accompanied by a nasty glare aimed at the younger girl.

"Fine," Moira snapped. "Don't talk about me like I'm not here, then.  
Especially when I can see and hear you perfectly." Her lip was  
curling into a sneer and Duo could see one of her eyebrows slightly  
twitching.

But before he could warn her to cut the smartass act, she got up from  
her seat, picking up her fork and knife and putting them on her empty  
plate.

"I'd like to be excused," she said. "I need to work more on my  
speech. If you want, I'll be back down to do the dishes." She left  
the table before Duo could say yes, her hair trailing behind her as  
she walked.

He waited for Heero to finish eating before leaning back in his chair  
and saying, "Looks like you're hitting some rough spots with each  
other."  
Heero stood up and starting clearing the table. "She shouldn't be on  
the roof," he insisted. "I was in the bathroom and then I saw her  
walking up there, and she acted nonchalant about it. Like I was  
making a big fuss over nothing." He reached for Duo's plate. "I don't  
know. She's so...different."

"She's not a baby anymore. When they put you in coldsleep, she was  
only six or seven months old, remember?" Duo got up and circled his  
arms around Heero's shoulders and burrowing his chin into the dark,  
silky hair. "Give it time," he whispered. "I can talk to her, but  
you've got to be patient. She adores you, okay? I'm not lying here."

He felt Heero nod, after a moment's hesitation. Duo smiled,  
tightening his arms around the other man briefly.

"It'll all work out. You'll see." He kissed the top of Heero's head  
and then released him. "/I'll/ take the dishes. You go and rest."

Moira groaned; even with shoes on, the purple graduation robe still  
dragged on the floor. Everyone else's hung at least six inches above  
the ground. This wasn't fair; even Ella over there was just as tall  
as she was and hers wasn't dragging. But then again, Ella had huge  
boobs.

"When are we going to go in?" she asked Audrey, who was standing next  
to her.

"They said any time now," Audrey replied, "which means not in the  
next five minutes. I want to go now and get this over with, man. At  
least I'm not you, you're the last one to go in." She grinned down at  
Moira.

"Shut up," Moira grumbled. She'd spent last night trying to memorize  
her speech so that she didn't have to look at her notes all the time  
while she spoke to the audience. Now, where the hell was Steve? They  
were supposed to go in together for the ceremony. He said that he was  
going to go to the bathroom for a bit, but that was about twenty  
minutes ago.

Now that the speech was less than an hour away, she was as nervous as  
hell. That was really weird for her; she normally didn't have any  
problems talking in front of anybody. But now her stomach was doing  
jumping jacks inside.

I guess it would have been different if it was just Dad and Nana,  
she thought. Now that Papa was here, she felt like she couldn't screw  
this up. If it had been Dad and Nana only, she could have forgotten  
everything in her speech, and in the end it would be okay. They'd  
laugh, and it'd be fine, once she knew she could live it down. But  
Papa didn't look like the type to laugh at all. Right now Moira was  
wondering if he even had a sense of humor to begin with. There /had/  
to be, if he could smile like that in the picture by her bed.

That was the problem. The thing was that people that /didn't/ have a  
sense of humor couldn't smile like that, and at least from what she'd  
heard from Nana and Dad, she thought Papa would have found something  
funny or at least seemed more amiable. But it seemed like his face  
only had two modes: stony or pissed. Granted, he was still gaining  
back some strength from his stint in the hospital, but honestly, she  
was wondering if that picture she had was just a really rare thing  
going on.

Moira heard the strains of "Pomp and Circumstance" beginning, and  
looked around furiously, wondering if Steve decided to lock himself  
in the bathroom on purpose just to embarrass her.

"Steve isn't here yet?" Audrey asked. "Tough, girl. Good luck on your  
speech, maybe he'll show up on time." She gave Moira a quick hug,  
taking off her cap and ruffling her hair. "I gotta go get into  
alphabetical order with the rest of em. See ya around."

"Great. Terrific." Moira shuffled her notes around, going over her  
speech one last time. Her classmates were disappearing quickly into  
the auditorium. They had at least two hundred graduating, right? And  
Steve /still/ was nowhere to be seen.

"Come on, come on..." She started bouncing up and down, watching the  
numbers dwindle to fifty, then thirty, then ten. Their cue was coming  
up fast, and now the usher was looking at her, mouthing, "where is  
he?"

Moira shrugged helplessly. "Good Lord above, I beg of you, strike me  
down where I stand," she whimpered.

"Not today, babe." She whirled around, seeing Steve walking casually  
to the entrance.

"What the hell is wrong with you? We just...oh, there goes our  
cue. /Terrific/," she said.

"Dude, it wasn't my fault! I got lost on my way to the bathroom and  
on the way back."

"Save it, Barlow," Moira snapped, "we're _late_." She gathered up the  
folds of the purple robe in both hands and started running down the  
aisle, ignoring Steve's plea to wait.

Get to the podium, get to the podium, get to the podium _now_, she thought. Her classmates were a huge blur of purple, white, and silver all around. She'd been pretty fast, but at this point, she might just make it before the music ended, with a few seconds to catch her breath.

"Oof!" Moira hit the ground hard, flat on her face. Head spinning,  
she slowly rose to her knees. Her palm was stinging, and her ankle  
didn't feel too good either. And she was only halfway to the podium.

She felt someone lifting her arm. "Tsk tsk, Maxwell," Steve  
said, "Running isn't a good idea for short kids and long robes, don't  
ya know." Before she could protest, Moira felt another arm around her  
knees, and they were running the rest of the way up to the podium.  
The music had already finished.

She didn't want to look up into the audience to see where her family  
was. The scenarios she had in her head were bad enough, and she was  
swaying from side to side, looking out over a sea of giggling  
classmates, and trying to figure out what, exactly, were the closing  
remarks of her speech.

"Well, we sure can say these four years have been a trip, eh?" Steve  
shouted into the microphone, setting Moira down on her feet like she  
was a toddler being shooed out to play.

"I'm going to get you for this," she hissed to Steve. Then she turned  
to the audience, straightened her robes, and batted the tassel out of  
the way. At least the speech was going to be good.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen..."


	3. Chapter 3

True North  
Chapter 3  
Pairing: 2x1  
Category: AU  
Warning: sap, OC kid  
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is copyright Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu  
Agency. "Eien no Rhapsody" is copyright Midori Saiha/Ringo Zaidan.  
Thanks to Diamroyal for beta reading!

Moira would have watched the storm outside, but she was  
busy playing Aqua Saga when it started, and unfortunately with video  
games, she couldn't really stop herself once she got started. It was  
always either A) she was too tired or B) Dad showed up and told her  
that it was time for her to sleep already, and he expected her in bed  
Right Now Or Else that finally got her to save and turn off the  
gaming system in the end.

In this case, it was August, it was the weekend, and it was just  
after dinner, so either option would be out of the question for  
another five to seven hours.

She heard the thunder booming underneath the game's peppy music, but  
she ignored it. Storm season was always during summer, and this was  
nothing new. Besides, she needed to get her party up a few more  
levels before she could beat the next boss. After this, the Ellipsis  
costume spheres could be unlocked and that'd give the party a lot of  
upgrades. And honestly, getting to see Aidan shirtless? Moira had to  
get them tonight.

Of course, she thought, after seeing the post-battle experience  
points total up on the screen, she could probably go a little beyond  
that, because apparently, they didn't need so many level-ups after  
all.

"Sweet," she said, moving Aidan forward on the TV screen.  
"Just need to save here and we can really get started." The Elysian  
Fields here had one save point under the baobab tree, and as Aidan  
ran closer, she saw the familiar spinning purple ball.

Just as the window asking her to save popped up, there was  
a loud crash of thunder, following by a shrill _breeeeep_ as  
everything in the living room suddenly shut off, including the TV  
screen with the "YES" option highlighted on the save window. A few  
seconds passed. The TV still didn't switch back on. A minute, and  
still nothing.

Frowning, Moira took her cell phone out of her pocket, only  
to see a blank, dead screen. This meant that the cell towers had  
power cut off too.

"Fuck," she hissed. "Fuck a duck!"

This was the worst time to have a blackout. Ever.

"Uh-oh," Duo said, hearing Moira's screams. "That doesn't  
sound good."

Another enraged howl issued from the living room. "NOW I  
HAVE TO GET THEM UP AGAIN! ANOTHER TWO HOURS OF GAMEPLAY! WHY, GOD,  
WHY!?"

"Honey, it's only a game. When the power comes back on,  
you just catch up," Duo called out. He got up from the table to look  
for candles. He knew there were some in the kitchen drawers.  
Hopefully there were a few left, and not those scented ones that he  
got from a colleague. He didn't want the house stinking of Ginger  
Berry Melon. Even Relena wrinkled her nose when he'd tried to pawn  
them off on her, primly stating that vanilla was the only fragrance  
allowed in her house.

He found some long red tapers, held one up to his nose, and  
put them on the counter with a satisfied nod. "Good, they only smell  
like wax. Where you going?" he asked, seeing Moira run down the  
foyer toward the stairs. "I need you to get the matches...oh, _you've_ got them. Terrific," he said, noticing Heero placing them next  
to the candles.

"I think she went to go check on her stuff. You know, the  
little music player she always has..." Heero stopped, trying to  
remember the word for it again.

"The Seashell."

"...yeah, that. And her laptop." Heero glanced towards the  
foyer. "I'm not sure, but I think I saw her recharging them earlier-  
"

They heard Moira screeching in frustration upstairs.

"—and it turns out she was."

Duo patted Heero on the back. "Well, that means she can  
watch the storm with us. Get on the porch, and I'll see if I can't  
pull her out of her room."

"What if she wants to play the guitar up there?" Heero  
asked. "She could play the acoustic one without any trouble."

"Nah, she likes watching storms too," Duo said, lighting a  
candle and going towards the stairs. "It's only a matter of getting  
her to watch them with us. Go on and set up, and we'll be down in a  
few."

Moira groaned, sliding open the top desk drawer for the  
light crystals she always kept on hand for blackouts. She couldn't  
see too well, thanks to the rapidly darkening sky outside. Finally,  
her hands came across what seemed like a faceted point. She felt for  
the switch at the base.

"What are you doing up here?" Dad asked, a lit candle in  
his hand.

She let out a yelp, banging her knee on the desk's steel.  
"I...I was going to watch the storm outside," she answered, rubbing  
the injured part. Man, that was going to bruise. She switched the  
crystal on, throwing a bright aqua-tinged light in the room.

Dad raised an eyebrow, pointing to the window. "You were  
going to watch the storm outside _there_? Out on the _roof_?"

"Umm..." Moira shifted from foot to foot. "That was the  
idea?" She grinned sheepishly, twirling the crystal in her fingers.  
Dad exhaled loudly, and she winced. That hadn't been a good answer.

"Moira, there's a storm outside. What makes you think that  
going out onto a slippery area to watch it is a good idea?" he asked  
sternly. That only made her fidget more; she wanted to hang out by  
herself and see the storm, but she didn't know how to say it.

"You know what, I...really don't know. I guess I'll just  
chill in here and whip out the guitar or something," she replied  
nonchalantly. Dad shook his head, taking her hand and pulling her  
from the desk.

"We're watching the storm out on the porch. Come on," he  
said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Papa's down there right  
now. It'll be like old times, remember?"

Moira nodded. The last time this had happened was when she  
was ten, right after she'd caught some fireflies in the front yard.  
She and Dad had watched the storm underneath the porch, with glasses  
of lemonade she'd made with Nana earlier that day. Even when the  
storm had passed, they'd spent the rest of the night pointing out  
the stars in the sky until she'd fallen asleep on Dad's lap.

She missed those days when it was just the two of them.

Really, she was trying her best with Papa. They'd  
celebrated his birthday two days ago—he turned eighteen or eighty-  
one, depending on how anybody wanted to look at it—in a nice  
restaurant that they'd never really been to all that often. At first  
she'd suggested Zerzura, a place that was, to her, nice and laid-  
back at the same time. The look on Papa's face once she mentioned  
the karaoke shot that down pretty quick.

There went Moira's birthday present; she'd intended to sing  
a song onstage dedicated to Papa. In the end she just settled for  
covering some of the meal. Granted, her part-time job at the labs  
wasn't much, but Dad told her that it was all right, after all, she  
was just a student. When she tried to play it on her guitar after  
they got home, she wound up playing the wrong chords, and then forgot  
one of the verses. Papa didn't act upset about it, but she could  
tell he wasn't interested.

Dad, Moira thought, was easier to please. Easier to  
approach, easier to talk to. They didn't spend much time together,  
but when they did he never made her feel like she was an obligation  
or something. They enjoyed their time with each other, and hell,  
Moira understood why Dad was busy. So was she. But it was okay.

With Papa, she was having to try, she thought. That was  
probably it; she'd thought by now they'd be getting along famously,  
and well, they were getting there, hopefully.

She just had to try a little harder.

Heero had just finished setting up the lawn chairs when Duo  
strode onto the porch, Moira in tow.

"Here she is!" Duo crowed, pulling her closer. "Got her  
just in time."

Moira, however, looked like she wanted nothing more than to  
retreat back upstairs and hide in her room. Heero could tell by how  
she was squirming, sliding a bare foot in and out of one of her  
sandals.

At least it was better than knowing she was on the roof  
watching the storm.

"Did we miss anything?" Duo asked, plopping down in a lawn  
chair. Heero shook his head, sitting down in his own. There had been  
some flashes in the sky, but no lightning bolts yet. The thunder,  
though, was booming while gales of wind whipped the tree branches  
against the house in an irregular rattle. It was only the awning on  
the porch that protected them.

Heero's candle flickered momentarily. Moving it farther  
back from the wind and rain, he glanced at the doorway. Moira was  
still standing at the doorway, holding a small, glowing crystal point  
in her hands. He gestured at a lawn chair for her to sit.

She tilted her head, twirling the crystal with her fingers  
for a few seconds as if considering the offer.

"Sit down," he said, gesturing again. Moira shrugged her  
shoulders, the straps of her layered tank tops sliding down as she  
did so, and finally took a seat.

Afterwards, not a word passed between them, except for an  
occasional gasp of awe from Moira when a lightning bolt appeared in  
the sky, and then Duo cheering at the resulting boom of thunder. It  
was just the three of them sitting on the porch, protected from the  
lashing downpour outside with only a few candles and the crystal for  
light.

Except for the crystal's bright turquoise glow, Heero felt  
like he was back in AC 196 again. He'd been here for at most two  
months and everything around him still felt alien. With the blackout,  
all that advanced technology had shut down, so now Heero could  
pretend, even if only for a little while.

He and Duo had watched storms like this before. At first he'  
d liked doing it only because Duo wouldn't try to talk to him so  
much in those first attempts to pull him out of his shell; instead,  
he shut up and gave Heero some badly needed peace. Later, after they  
knew each other better, Heero saw these outdoor sittings as a way to  
relax with Duo by his side. It was the two of them not  
doing anything: no sex, no hand-holding or cuddling, no watching  
the TV, and no conversation. As long as that storm lasted, they were  
just there in the simple act of being and enjoying each other's  
company.

When Moira came along, it was easier to add her to the  
storm watches than Heero had originally thought. She'd been loud,  
crying when she was hungry, wet, and any time in between when she was  
full and dry. But on the first storm of that summer, they'd taken  
the squalling infant outdoors onto the porch, Heero bouncing her up  
and down to soothe her. He'd told Duo that it was a bad idea, that  
if they took her outside to watch, her cries would be heard within at  
least a ten mile radius, but Duo had waved a hand dismissively,  
dragging out the lawn chairs anyway.

As the first lightning bolt streaked across the sky,  
though, Moira had gone quiet. There had been none of the telltale  
signs of her starting to cry; instead, she stared wide-eyed,  
enchanted by what she'd seen. Except for some soft coos and gurgles,  
she lay quietly cradled in Heero's arms until the storm passed. Then  
she'd fallen contentedly asleep.

The storm seemed to have the same effects on her now as it  
did then. The crystal lay in her lap, forgotten, while she gazed at  
the sky while her hands were folded on her stomach, legs crossed at  
the knee.

She and Duo were both quiet. It wasn't that Heero disliked  
their chatter—in fact, he'd grown to like the sound of their voices  
even more since his revival—but silence every now and then was quite  
welcome. Especially when it was with family. If he wanted it to be  
quiet, there was plenty of time when neither of them were in the  
house, but then it was empty.

Heero leaned back in his chair, hoping the storm wouldn't  
end too soon.

Duo had forgotten how enjoyable a storm could be, even with  
a blackout.

Of course, that happened when you were busy as hell. The  
past two months had been nothing but running around. The only things  
he did at home were eating and sleeping, it seemed like. The rest of  
the time was split between the labs and the hospital, writing  
articles for medical journals on his findings and checking on his  
patients.

Frankly, it was a miracle he was still healthy, given that  
he was down to two meals a day, if he considered what they had in the  
lab cafeteria a "meal." Running a thumb under his chin, Duo  
grimaced. He needed a shave. Badly. The stubble was so much that he  
wondered why he didn't have any five o' clock shadow whenever he'd  
been able to catch a glimpse in the mirror. And if it hadn't been  
for Heero's pointed reminders, he probably would have forgotten to  
shower as well. Still, it was better than Professor G tossing a soap  
dispenser on his desk and saying, "Just in case you've run out at  
home!"

His patients, so far, were doing just fine. Once they'd  
gotten over the side effects of the gene therapy, there hadn't been  
many problems. He still planned to do monthly checkups until a year  
had passed, and then he'd go up to three month checkups, and then  
six, and then finally yearly.

The only drawback was that the most face-time he'd had with  
Heero was during those checkups. Face-time when he was alert and/or  
not eating, that is. Luckily, Heero didn't seem to mind only getting  
to see Duo while being poked and prodded. Much to Duo's  
satisfaction, Heero was thriving. He'd gained weight and developed  
an appetite so big that it threatened to overshadow Moira's. Then  
again, physically, he was at the age where most boys had a final  
growth spurt, so he wouldn't be eye-to-eye with Moira much longer. It wasn't too great, Duo thought, having a daughter that was taller than you, even if it was only by a small amount.

While that was good, he _missed_ Heero. He'd waited fifteen  
years to see him again. Now that he was here, Duo didn't get to see  
him all that much, and it got so goddamned frustrating. The only  
reason Heero wasn't working with him side by side now was because he  
needed to retake certification, and the exams weren't going to be  
until April or so. That was a good thing; sixty-five years of  
scientific developments was going to be a lot to learn and absorb,  
even for Heero.

And then there would be the chaos in the scientific  
community to deal with, once word got out that Heero Yuy, the  
youngest scientist in history to win the Nobel Prize, was now alive  
and well. They'd been as hush-hush as possible when Heero had been  
revived, so that he could gain some strength back, but if he was  
going to return to work, his return couldn't be kept a secret  
forever.

Duo stole a glance at Heero, who was sitting on his left.  
He was visibly relaxed, legs stretched out in front of him. Duo  
grinned to himself; even with all this craziness around them, they  
still managed to find some peace.

The storm was beginning to show signs of letting up, the  
lightning reduced to brief flashes in the dark gray sky. The thunder'  
s shattering boom shrank gradually into rolling grumbles. Soon it'd  
only be raining, and when that reduced into a lazy drizzle, all they'  
d have to remember of the storm was the grass and leaves, a lush  
green with water in the moonlight.

But Duo planned to sit out here all night and make this  
night last as long as he damn well could. He'd go back to work  
whenever the lights came back on, which wasn't now, and from the  
looks of things, probably wasn't going to be for a while.

Fireflies slowly appeared in the front yard, their bright  
greenish yellow lights lazily twinkling on and off in the cool August  
evening.

They looked so much better when it was really dark outside.  
The street lamps didn't do much to make the sky any brighter, but  
now that they were off, the fireflies looked even more beautiful.

Of course, if it was darker out, it meant that more stars  
were going be visible tonight. Moira had learned that fact each and  
every time they'd gone to the planetarium for field trips. She  
switched the crystal off, put it in the pocket of her capris, got up  
and walked onto the lawn.

It had just stopped raining, and with the exceptions of a  
random torn branch or two, the grass was wet, furry and softer than  
usual brushing against her bare ankles. The clouds were rapidly  
disappearing and in their wake, much to her delight, was a black  
sky _filled_ with stars glittering down from above. She could even  
see the Milky Way if she squinted a little bit.

The air felt terrific too, especially after how muggy the  
day had been. It was so refreshing that Moira wanted to pour it into  
a glass and take a long drink. Screw Aqua Saga; she couldn't  
remember the last time she'd had any good stargazing.

"You're not going to lie down in that, are you?" Papa's  
voice cut through her reverie. Moira realized that while she'd been  
looking at the sky, she'd knelt down in the wet grass. She  
considered saying, "Yeah, I am," and then promptly lying down and  
rolling around in it, but it wasn't really worth the trouble.  
Except, of course, it was a lot more fun lying in the grass and  
watching the stars than on the porch, but she could get an okay  
enough view there anyway. She'd just be lying on concrete, but  
stargazing was stargazing.

Moira got up, brushing stray blades of grass off the denim  
of her capris, and walked back to the porch. She kicked off her  
sandals and lay down, putting her arms behind her head for a pillow.

"Better?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at Papa.

"Isn't that uncomfortable?" he asked in turn. "Why can't  
you take your chair outside?"

"You /have/ to lie down to see stars. It's the only way.  
Help me out here, Dad."

Dad chuckled. "Gonna have to go with her on that one,  
Heero. Sorry." Moira heard a scraping sound as Dad moved his chair  
forward. "How's it look tonight?"

She grinned. "Terrific," she murmured. "What? You're not  
lying down?"

"Naw," Dad drawled, his voice slow and smooth, "I don't  
feel like getting up right now." His chair creaked, probably because  
he was stretching—Moira couldn't see—and he sighed in contentment.  
"God, this breeze feels good. No, I don't think I want to get up.  
Even for those stars."

"You're not moving from there, are you?" Papa asked. His  
expression wasn't very readable, except that it looked like he was  
deep in thought. Moira shook her head.

Suddenly he got up from his chair. Before Moira could ask  
what he was doing, Papa knelt down, lifting her head up gently and  
placing it in his lap.

"Um...thanks," she said, taken aback by the gesture. She'd  
expected him to try and drag her upwards, or just look at her  
disapprovingly until she got up. It was so hard to tell.

Papa snorted. "At least this way you'll be comfortable," he  
said, leaning back on his hands and peering outside. Up close, Moira  
noticed that the dark stripes on his shirt weren't black like she'd  
thought, but instead an intense forest green. The thin cloth brushed  
against her cheek as she turned her head, trying to get herself  
settled. She hadn't seen Papa in a T-shirt unless he was sleeping;  
other than that, he tended to dress real preppy, except not so  
rumpled like her classmates; everything tended to be pressed with  
him.

"Can you see the Big Dipper?" he asked.

Moira laughed. "Of course I can! It's over there," she  
said, pointing a little off to the right. "If you go a little bit  
down and to the left...there's Polaris, and then that W-shaped thing  
over there is Cassiopeia." Her finger traced the shape out for him.

"How did you learn where all of these constellations are?"  
One of his hands had moved to her head, resting lightly on top of her  
bangs.

She shrugged, feeling the straps of her tank top move a  
little more into place. "Dad pointed out Polaris for me once. But  
the rest I looked up on the Internet or on star charts in the  
library. I'm thinking about going into astrophysics at Blair."

"Why not astronomy?" Papa's eyes shone a deep cloudy  
sapphire blue in the weak candlelight. He looked thoughtful, and  
strangely enough, Moira thought, very interested in what she had to  
say.

"Well," she said, pointing both index fingers up at him, "I  
really don't know. I guess with astrophysics, there's other stuff  
you can do. Like with zero point gravity, that's going to be the  
next big thing, you know? So after I do some work with the physics, I  
could take breaks stargazing. It's closely related to astronomy,  
anyway." Her hands danced in the air as she spoke, dipping and  
twirling.

"I see," Papa said, his fingers running slowly through her  
hair. She felt them meandering toward her scar, like he was curious  
about it, but wasn't sure about asking—and therefore touching it—  
yet.

Moira saw a flicker of movement up in the sky, just near  
Altair.

"Oh!" she gasped. "That's right, it's August, so it's  
shooting star season. Look over there," she said, pointing at the  
falling star. Another one began to move, this time around Arcturus.  
Papa didn't say anything, but just looked in the direction where she  
was pointing and nodded.

"It's not exactly the middle of the month yet, but when it  
is, it's going to look a lot better than this," she continued. "The  
trouble is that we probably won't be able to see it so well, thanks  
to the lights being on. That's a shame, because they're so  
beautiful, aren't they?"

Papa didn't answer, but kept looking at the sky, as if he  
was trying to see something very far away. He was like that for a  
long time, gently stroking her bangs and smoothing them down from her  
temples.

"Papa?" she asked.

"Huh?"

"Aren't they pretty?"

It was hard to tell, but she thought she saw the corners of his mouth  
turn up slightly.

"Yeah. Yeah, they are," he replied, voice barely above a whisper.

"Out like a light," commented Duo. Heero heard the  
squeaking of his lawn chair as the other man got up, and then the  
soft shuffle of flipflops as he came to sit down on the porch itself.

Moira had long since fallen asleep, her normally animated  
hands lying still on her stomach. Now that she wasn't talking,  
smiling, or frowning, her face had taken on an eerie, seraphic calm  
in the light provided by the moon and the dying candles. Heero's  
hand was still on her forehead, playing absentmindedly with her  
bangs.

"I wish this night would _never_ end," Duo said, his voice  
low. A firefly landed on one of his hands, blinking on and off a few  
times before finally drifting away.

"Why?"

"Because I haven't felt this good in a long time," was the  
indulgent reply. Duo reached out and pulled Heero close, enveloping  
him in the familiar smell of coffee and soap. "Look, the power's all  
out, so the world's standing still. And there's nothing like being  
outside just after a storm when that happens. It's finally cool  
out, with the fireflies and _that_."

Duo swept an arm across the sky, still glittering with  
stars. "The real reason, though, is because for the next few hours  
or so, I don't have to run off to the labs, write manuscripts, or go  
and check on patients. All I have to do," he said, clasping slightly  
sticky arms around Heero's shoulders, "is stay here. With you."

Heero snorted. Duo's chin felt scratchy. "You haven't  
shaved," he said. Duo rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Yeah, I know. I guess I haven't had time. If it wasn't for  
you, showering would have gone right out the window."

"Duo, it was either that or the couch," Heero grumbled. He  
was beginning to feel a little warm. Maybe he should have worn shorts  
today like Duo had; he looked so comfortable with his bare calves  
sticking out of his worn denim cutoffs. Duo laughed. He sounded  
relaxed and carefree.

"I'm sorry about that, Heero. But unless I'm doing your  
checkup, I'm either eating or sleeping when you're around. At least  
now I'm awake to hear you say that," he said. "I think I'm going to  
see about getting a day off soon."

"Are you overworking yourself?" Heero asked. Duo sighed  
and pushed back some wayward strands of hair.

"Sure feels like it. I didn't think that it'd be this  
hectic after I found the cure, to tell you the truth, but now I'm up  
to my eyebrows in work. You know what that's like, right?"

Heero nodded. If he'd been older than fourteen when he won  
the Nobel, the media would have probably been more insistent for  
press conferences and interviews. Even then, it didn't do much to  
minimize the workload he'd gotten. But then again, he hadn't minded  
it so much. He was a workaholic by nature. So was Duo, but apparently  
he had a different approach with it.

"I miss seeing you," Duo blurted. "I know that sounds real  
stupid—because you're here now—but ever since Moira's graduation, I  
haven't really been around to actually _be_ with you except for  
those checkups, and those are only once a month." He held up one  
finger.

"I hate that," he continued ranting, his hand balling into a fist  
for a split second before reopening and waving crazily in the air.  
"I feel like I'm being taunted somehow; oops, not yet, not yet,  
gotta wait a little longer. I did this because I wanted to see you,  
and...and..." he fumbled for the right words. Before he could, Heero  
leaned into Duo and placed his own hand on Duo's wrist, moving it  
upwards and interlacing their fingers.

Duo gave up, falling silent. They sat like that, listening to the  
crickets chirp in the dark for a long time. Finally, Heero pulled  
Duo's head close and whispered, "Bed?"

Duo gazed at him thoughtfully for a few minutes, his eyes gleaming.  
Then the corners of his mouth turned up in a sly grin and he nodded,  
chuckling slowly.

"Yeah...bed," he whispered back, kissing Heero full on the mouth.  
"I'll put Moira in her room. Just clean up and wait for me."

With that, Duo scooped Moira into his arms, carrying her into the  
house and leaving Heero behind on the porch with a few dying candles.


	4. Chapter 4

True North  
Chapter 4  
Pairing: 2x1  
Category: AU  
Warning: sap, OC kid  
Gundam Wing copyright Bandai, Sunrise, and Sotsu Agency. "One Week" copyright  
Barenaked Ladies. "Eien no Rhapsody" copyright Midori Saiha/Ringo Zaidan.

Thanks to Diamroyal for beta-reads, letting me know what a sunrise looks like, and educating me properly on coffee use.

Even though it was the beginning of his two day vacation, Duo Maxwell was wide awake at a quarter to five. It was still dark outside, but the birds were chirping already. And as much as he tried to close his eyes and go back to sleep, he just couldn't. Being an early riser had finally become second nature after all these years. He sighed, remembering the old times when the idea of getting up at six was painful to hear.

He turned over on his side to look at Heero, who was sound asleep, breaths deep and even, with that relaxed expression that made Duo's heart turn over in his chest. Just watching Heero sleep gave Duo a slow, spreading sense of calm that felt like it would last forever if such things were possible. Duo liked that feeling; it told him that all was right in the world.

But even though he felt that all was right with the world, he /still/ couldn't go back to sleep. It was dark and quiet except for the birds, but here he was, lying in bed, with his body refusing to let him go off to dreamland for another hour or so.

"All right, all right, dammit, I'm up," Duo grumbled, sliding his legs over the edge of the bed. He tiptoed barefoot out of the bedroom and down the hall for a shower; if he had to be awake at this hour, even on his first day off, at least he'd try and feel good awake. So first, the shower. Then he could go down and watch the sun rise with a steaming mug of coffee in his hand.

That didn't sound so bad, Duo thought. The smell of soap and the sound of running water did a lot to lift his mood. He still had quite a while before the sun rose, but he looked a lot more forward to it than going back to bed now.

Okay, so maybe getting up early wasn't such a bad thing after all. If he felt tired later on, he could always take a nap. But as Duo stepped inside the shower, he figured that he wouldn't be doing that either today.

This day was too good to spend fast asleep.

After he'd gotten dressed in an old pair of jeans and a worn T-shirt with the words, "Gotta go, my village just called. They're missing their idiot." In black letters across the chest, Duo went downstairs, whistling tunelessly. He unfolded the laptop in his hands until it was no longer the size of a deck of cards and put it on the kitchen table. It beeped softly, starting itself up while Duo went into the kitchen to make himself some coffee.

Lately, Duo had been making do with the coffee at the labs, which, in his opinion, tasted like ass. Whoever was in charge of the coffee maker was probably new on the job; Lady Une had had coffee making down to an exact science when she was there in 196.

There were two bags of coffee grounds he had; one was the brand he bought at the supermarket every so often. That was in the cupboard. The other, still unopened and located in the freezer, was the signature blend from an expensive café in L2 that he'd gotten when he was on a business trip. He'd saved it for special occasions, deeming it too precious for everyday use.

Today, he went over to the freezer, opening the door and pulling the bag of coffee out from its place on the door shelf, grinning from ear to ear. This _was_ a special occasion, because now he could enjoy every sip going down. It was only until Thursday, when he had to back to work, but he had time, and it was going to be a pleasant change from chugging down the coffee at work so the taste didn't have time to register. As he tore it open, Duo inhaled the intense, smooth aroma, and sighed happily. He chuckled quietly to himself, going to the coffee maker next to the stove. With a small plastic scoop and a fresh filter ready, he dumped the coffee grounds in and went back to his laptop, rubbing his hands in anticipation.

He would read the news while he waited. That was all he was doing today with his computer; no checking email or doing anything else that was in any way work related. After all, he could come back in two days and then deal with whatever there was waiting for him in his inbox.

The clock on his laptop read 5:35. Good. He could look over the front page of the online newspaper until the coffee finished brewing. The weather forecast looked great for today; clear skies, no chance of rain, and a high of seventy degrees Fahrenheit. Right now it was sixty degrees, perfect for a morning in early September, with fifty-five minutes until the sun rose.

There was a follow-up story on the murders of three young women. They'd been found in that one park near Moira's old elementary school four days ago, their bodies so mutilated that they were only identified through their jewelry. Today's report said that the police had found a cleaver buried in the woods about a mile off from the park, and that the bloodstains on the blade matched that of the victims. Given that the victims had been around the ages of seventeen to twenty, he was afraid for Moira and her friend Audrey. Even though these murders had taken place in broad daylight, he was going to set an earlier curfew for Moira until they'd found the culprit.

He'd started reading another story about Earth's possible changes to colonial policies when the coffee maker let out three short whistles, signaling that the coffee was done brewing.

"All right!" Duo went to the cupboard, taking out a large black coffee mug. He could taste the coffee already, just by feeling the shiny glaze under his fingers. In fact, it was a near goddamned miracle that he wasn't drooling on himself.

"It's been too _long_," he groaned melodramatically. The coffee maker sensed the mug as Duo slid it underneath. This cup was going to take a long time to finish, because what was inside was meant to be savored.

Duo took a small sip and rolled his eyes back with pleasure. "Almost better than sex," he moaned. The coffee was just as good as he'd remembered it was in that L2 café; rich, nutty and intense, while still butter-smooth.

If he was lucky, he'd be able to watch that sunrise while having another fresh mugful.

An hour later, the sky was no longer an inky black, but a pearly blue-gray. As he walked out onto the porch with a refilled mug of coffee in one hand, Duo saw the trees slowly melting into sight from the shadows. Their leaves rustled quietly in the darkness, as if welcoming Duo into this intimate moment.

He took a long, deep drink of his coffee, shoulders sagging in relief as its warmth flooded him from the inside, branching to the tips of his fingers and toes. The air was cool, but not so bad that Duo had to go back inside and pull on a sweatshirt. The coffee had taken care of that. He thought about waking Heero up and bringing him down to see this for just a second, but he nixed the idea. Heero was sleeping very soundly upstairs, for one thing, and assuming Duo could even get him down, they'd probably miss most of the sunrise.

There'd be other times for them to watch a sunrise, Duo thought, gazing at the lightening sky. Now he could see the houses across from his own coming into view, and the ground shimmering with fat dewdrops on the grass in his front lawn. It was almost full daylight, with the faintest glow of pink at the horizon.

Gradually, the sky shed the blue-gray for a warm pink, the color of ripe peaches. The horizon had some orange creeping up, blending seamlessly into the pink, while the outermost edges of the sky were tinged with deep reds and purples. As the pink spread further out, Duo saw some yellow over the horizon.

"Beautiful," he murmured in awe. At work, he'd either seen the sky turn lighter or the sun already up, but he'd never seen the sky all decked out like this, pinks, oranges, reds and purples all spread out before him as the sky was growing _brighter_. It was paler and more delicate than a sunset, but it was just as gorgeous.

All too soon the sun appeared, its harsh light so dazzling that Duo had to shade his eyes with one hand. The spectrum of colors in the sky slowly vanished, like watercolors reduced to a mere wash, only to be replaced with blue, white, and the sun's white-yellow light above.

"Just like that, huh?" Duo asked nobody in particular. "Guess the show's over then." He took another sip of his coffee and padded inside the house. Moira would be awake in another half-hour or so, and Duo wanted to get started on making some breakfast for her that didn't consist solely of Vietnamese coffee and cereal.

"Mmmf. This is terrific." Moira shoved another forkful of her last pancake in her mouth. Her plate currently was empty, but she'd had two of them before this last one, large, fluffy, golden-brown disks that she'd soaked in maple syrup and cherries, before that last bite.

"Easy there, kiddo," Duo laughed. "What happened to you being so depressed about your summer ending so fast?" He took the syrup jug and drizzled it over his own plate, which held a stack of three pancakes.

"Well," Moira said, chewing thoughtfully, "yeah, it _does_ suck. And I'm still not happy about it. But, Dad, you made pancakes! There's no better way to start your first day of college than pancakes!"

"Speaking of your first day, what's with the getup?" Duo asked.

Moira was wearing a denim skirt with a striped polo shirt and both sides of the collar, much to Duo's relief, were down this time. But he swore that there was a glimmer of lip gloss on her lips right now.

"Huh?" She blinked at him, confused.

"The makeup. And the skirt. You almost never wear skirts." He tugged at the hem of Moira's skirt, which fell to mid-thigh. She hissed and slapped his hand away.

"I need to look a little more grown up, that's all," she replied, taking her plate, leaving the table, and putting it into the dishwasher. "I'm in the big house now, remember?"

Duo snorted, taking a bite of his pancakes. "Well, I suppose wearing your collar properly is a start. Still, once you're in college, nobody really gives a damn what you wear. The ones who do aren't worth your time."

"...oh." Moira patted her mouth with a napkin. Duo got up from his seat and pecked her on the cheek. She'd even put on perfume; his nostrils were assaulted with the clean, crisp scent of citrus, herbs, and the faintest hint of rose.

"I think you better get going, sweetie. When's your first class?" he asked. Moira grimaced, rubbing sticky syrup residue off her face. "Sorry," he said, grinning sheepishly. She shook her head.

"It's okay," she said, looking at her watch. "Yeah, I gotta jet. It wouldn't be a good idea for me to be late." She looked up at Duo hopefully. "Uh...I know I haven't done this for a while, but can I...?" At Duo's puzzled expression, Moira mimed pulling something with one hand.

"Oh," he sighed, turning around so she could grab his ponytail. "Gently, okay? You don't want your old man going bald because you're in desperate need of luck." This time, Moira listened, because Duo could barely feel her hands tugging his hair.

"Thanks!" she chirped, throwing her arms around Duo and kissing him on the cheek. "Gotta go. Bye!" She shouldered her bag and ran out the door, her flip-flops slapping the wooden floor as she left.

"Have a nice day at school, honey. Drive safely," Duo called out after her.

Duo poured the pancake batter into the frying pan, singing to himself as he did so. "...it's been one week since you looked at me, cocked your head to the side and said 'you're crazy'..."

After Moira had sped off to school ten minutes earlier, he'd heard the toilet flushing upstairs. Heero was awake, and, judging by the sounds of water running above Duo's head, still getting ready for the day. That gave Duo enough time to make a stack of three pancakes, and currently, he was on the second one.

He waited until bubbles had appeared in the pale batter, and then expertly flipped it over with his spatula. The other side was a nice gold already, with the beginnings of lacy edges. He hadn't made pancakes in a while, but he hadn't messed up with the first batch either.

"I am the pancake master," he intoned solemnly to the sizzling pan. "I am the pancake master. I am the pancake master. I am the pancake master. Huh, that last one didn't sound right." He lifted the pancake, flipped it over, and grinned. "There we go," he chuckled, moving it to the plate with one waiting pancake already on it.

"That is one damn fine pancake, if I say so myself," he muttered. He poured in more batter, chanting, "I am the pancake master. I am the pancake master. I am the pancake master. I am the pancake master." Bubbles started to pop around the edges, and he flipped it over.

"I am the pancake master. I am the pancake master. I am the pancake master. I am the pancake master." He got louder. "I am the pancake master. I AM the pancake master. I am THE pancake master. I am the pancake MASTER. I. Am the pancake. Master."

He triumphantly flipped the last pancake onto the plate and held it up with both hands, yelling, "I am! The pancake! MASTER!"

Someone coughed behind him. He turned around only to be confronted by a fully dressed Heero staring at him with raised eyebrows. The plate nearly fell onto the floor, but he caught it just in time before it could shatter.

"So, uh, how long have you been standing there?" he asked, handing the plate over. Heero took it, smirking.

"Two minutes ago," he said.

"So you heard..."

"The whole thing," Heero finished, that goddamn smirk still on his face. If it had been on anyone else, Duo would have had to fight the temptation to beat the shit out of him or her. "You have a fork?"

"I'll get one for you." Duo turned the stove off and put the dirty pan and bowl in the dishwasher. The counter still had some batter drippings on its surface, but he could wipe them up later, when he turned the dishwasher on. He slid the drawer at the end of the counter open, taking out a fork and knife and handing them both to Heero, who nodded his thanks before he went to sit at the table.

"Coffee?" Duo asked, getting out another mug, this time a steely gray.

"Sure."

After breakfast, the two of them went for a walk. The weather outside was still pretty balmy for September, Duo thought; no need for a jacket today.

In fact, the few neighbors he did see in their yards were still in T-shirts. It probably wouldn't look like autumn until later in the month at the very earliest, when the air got cooler, the leaves started changing colors, and _then_ he'd have to drag the jacket out.

At least this year he got to enjoy a day or two to himself until then. He liked summer a great deal, so not being able to spend much time outside this year didn't make him too happy. This would hardly make up for it, but there was always next time, which was over ten depressing months away.

Duo stopped on the sidewalk and glanced over his shoulder. Heero was lagging a few yards behind him, taking time to gaze at the trees that lined the roads with wide eyes. Given that they'd been small, twiggy things sixty-five years ago, the fact that one had grown large enough to provide a mother and her toddlers shade in their front yard was probably mind-boggling. Heero would have seen them before since he'd been revived; after all, Duo didn't expect him to stay cooped up in the house all day, but he still didn't see what would have made the trees so interesting.

Heero hadn't returned to work at the labs right away for two reasons: one, he was recovering, and two, there had been many scientific advances while he'd been in coldsleep, and it was going to be a while before he was able to learn them all. As soon as he'd gained some strength back, Duo had given him his laptop to use while he was at work. Heero used it often to do research. When he wasn't with the laptop, he'd gone to the library, returning with a huge stack of scientific journals every time and poring over them with intense concentration. Duo had found him more than once in bed with an old issue of _Biotech Journal_ open in his hands. Once Heero relearned everything, then it was just a matter of retaking the certification exam. Duo would have to look up the dates when he had time.

He caught Heero's eye after a few minutes of standing around. "There's that park we used to go to, not too far from here," he called out, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "Wanna check it out? We can sit down for a bit."

Heero's eyes narrowed. "Is it that park where those murders took place? About four days ago?"

Duo shook his head. "Nope. Thataway, remember?" He nodded to his left. "It's gotten a lot nicer anyway, and if you really want to gawk at the plants, that's the best place I know for it."

"I was _not_ gawking," Heero muttered, walking closer to Duo and then past him. Duo had to smile; he sensed a little indignance in Heero's voice, which meant that of course, he'd been gawking, he just didn't want to admit it.

Not that Duo blamed him, of course.

There was a nature trail right at the park's entrance; a narrow dirt path with a wooden bridge over a pond about three quarters through, lined heavily with leafy bushes and trees. Normally, it took about twenty minutes to go there and back, but with Duo and Heero, an hour passed by and they still weren't done.

There was a shady grove of ash trees not too far from where the bridge was; they were currently sidetracked there, Duo sitting on one of the iron benches that were scattered here and there within the vast park while Heero was exploring the whole place, going up to each individual tree and placing a hand on the trunk, feeling the smooth bark. From the way he examined every branch and twig, it was as if he'd never seen ash trees before.

"I _have_, but last time I was here, they weren't so big," Heero said  
irritably. Duo blinked. He hadn't realized that he'd said that out loud.

"It's not a bad thing," he replied. "Just an observation I was making." Duo couldn't even begin to imagine what Heero had been through within the past three to four months or so; that was hardly enough time to adjust to a world that had, to him, advanced so much that it had probably turned itself inside out and upside down. Duo tapped the bench thoughtfully; these hadn't been here when Heero was around, instead, the benches had been made of brightly painted wood.

He waited until Heero was done checking out the trees and was coming to sit down next to him on the bench. "So, what did you think?" he asked.

"It's so different. Like everything else here," Heero murmured. He was still staring at the grove, marveling at how thick the canopy of leaves was.

"How are you adjusting? Is it going okay?" Duo asked. "I haven't been around to really check that, so I just wanna know."

Heero didn't answer for a long time, but kept looking up at the leafy canopy through half-closed eyes, sunlight and shadows dappling his bare forearms and the crisp white cloth of his shirt. Just as Duo opened his mouth to say that there wasn't any need for an answer right away, Heero said, "It's slower than I thought it could be. There's so many changes to absorb. More than I anticipated, and in places I didn't even think there'd be any."

"Like?"

"Like you." Heero looked Duo right in the eye, a corner of his mouth curling up in a smirk that Duo found unsettling, because he didn't know why the hell Heero was so amused.

"Well," he said mildly, "I guess I _would_ have changed in fifteen years. So what's so funny about it?" He glanced at his watch. It read 12:30. They'd have to think about getting lunch sometime within the next hour or he wasn't going to be very happy.

Heero cocked his head at Duo, the smirk still on his face, but his eyes deep in thought, dark pools of blue in the noontime sun. If he really listened, Duo thought, he could hear the whirr and click of the gears turning in his head.

Finally, Heero said, "You've grown up. That's the biggest part. You're  
definitely the guy I met, but not exactly the same." He paused, counting off unknown items with one hand. "There are some little things, too. Like this morning. I didn't see you put any cream or sugar in your coffee."

Duo shrugged, crossing his arms and shifting his torso to see Heero more comfortably. "Eh. The caffeine hits faster if I drink it black. I've been drinking it like that for a while now, probably for...thirteen years now? Somewhere around there."

"You never got up so early either. Especially when you didn't have to go work. Today, I was the last one up."

"I can't really say much about that." Duo shook his head. "To me, it's been like that since forever. I couldn't sleep in today."

"Why did you cut your hair?" The smirk had disappeared from Heero's face. Instead, he looked concerned, his eyebrows knitting together in worry.

"Oh. This." Duo reached over his shoulder and pulled his ponytail around, combing out the tangles with his fingers. "I cut it off when I went back to AC 246. The entire thing. I couldn't stand seeing it anymore."

"Why?"

Duo sighed. "It reminded me of you. You'd always said that you'd liked how long my hair was. And every time I saw it in the mirror after I went back, it was too much for me to handle. Because then I'd have to remember you were gone, and when that happened, I just got so pulled _down_," here, he punctuated the word with a pull of both his hands, "that I couldn't eat, sleep, hell, even _move_. So one day, I cut off the entire thing and tossed it in the trash."

He leaned both elbows onto the back of the bench, looking down at his jeans. "At least there wasn't anything to knock over beakers at the labs anymore. You hated that," he joked feebly.

"You shouldn't have cut it off." Heero looked at him in disbelief. "I wouldn't have wanted that."

"No," said Duo, "you wouldn't have. But I had to move on somehow. And hair grows back. I had Moira to learn that from, you know. All those haircuts and I wondered if the scissors were dull."

"You idiot," Heero said sadly, taking Duo's ponytail and stroking the ends. Duo smiled, grasping the other's hand and kissing the fingertips.

"Yeah, but I'm _your_ idiot," he said. "And I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat."

"Oh, that was very, very nice," Duo said. He stretched his bare arms and leaned back against the pillow.

"Good to see that you've been faithful." Heero nuzzled his face into Duo's shoulder, tightening his arms around Duo's waist under the sheets.

They were lying in bed, sweaty, sticky and spent from having sex. Long overdue sex, Duo thought. The last time they'd done it, it'd been after that storm last month, and Moira had been sleeping so soundly that they could carry on without waking her up. Even then, they'd been discreet about it. Now it was only the two of them, and they didn't have to worry about anyone disturbing them, especially after Duo made sure to screen any incoming calls.

"It's not hard. After you, nobody was all that sexually attractive," Duo said lightly, closing his eyes. They had some time before they'd need to think about getting dinner on the table. After leaving the park, the two of them had stopped to get sandwiches at the local deli, and then spent some time shopping for groceries. He wanted to give Moira a break this time; most of the time she was in charge of cooking for the both of them now for the past two years, especially since Relena had taken the care to teach her over one summer.

"You couldn't have gone without sex for fifteen years. I know you couldn't." He felt Heero lazily tracing patterns on his bare chest with his fingers, meandering here and there.

"I didn't have the time," Duo said, cracking open an eye. "Unless it was with this," he held up his right hand and waggled the fingers in front of Heero's nose, "and some lube. Believe me, working at the labs and keeping up with a kid at the same time knocks sex down a few notches on the priority list."

Heero drew concentric circles on Duo's chest, the largest one barely touching the edges of his nipples. "Yeah, it would," he said. "But you never tried to date anyone else?"

"Hell no." This time Duo opened both eyes. "I almost did. I started to lose hope of ever getting the disease cured a few years back. Nothing was working, and time was running out. So I started looking around for people, just in case." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "But when I told Moira, she looked real puzzled for a few seconds and asked, 'what about Papa when he comes here?'"

He looked down at Heero's fingers drawing squiggles on his skin; they reminded him of those lessons he'd had at school about sound waves, how the unseen lines moved up and down in round curves. "That's when I remembered you saying that you'd wait for me to come. When that happened, I decided to suck it up and keep trying. And here you are."

Heero nodded. He didn't say anything, but he stopped drawing, moving his hand upwards and around Duo's neck, pulled his head down, and gave him a slow kiss that started at the corner of his mouth; one that grew so intense that Duo found himself gasping for breath when they broke away.

"Wow," he said, looking down at Heero. "I'm going to be tasting you for the rest of the day."

Heero licked his lips with a satisfied smile. "Good," he purred.

Moira cocked an eyebrow at Duo. "You look real happy," she said, sliding her bag off her shoulder and hanging it over a chair.

"That I am, sweetie, that I am." He concentrated on the onion he was chopping. Mincing it was easy, but if you weren't careful, the knife could slip. He had a nasty scar on his fingers from the last time that had happened. "How was the first day of college?"

"Eh." Moira opened her bag, taking out a few sheets of paper. "Syllabi, intro to the classes, and then they let us go. But I got to see where I'll be working in the labs, and my supervisor's pretty cool. Her name's Dina Solotski."

"How many hours do they expect to have you put in at work?" Duo gave the onion one final chop and tossed it into the bowl with the growing pile of vegetables and chicken he had in there.

Moira's eyes scanned the sheets. "Um...nine to five. Minus classes." The muffled strains of "Rock With Me" by the Shippers started playing, and she reached into her bag and pulled out her cell phone. "Hello? Yeah...Oh, wow, you're with Dina too?... No, I didn't know, they had us come in alphabetically, I guess. That's so cool! So, you want to organize a study group, then? I heard from Kate that Nagra was a tough professor...yeah, that'd be great. Okay!"

Duo watched her out of the corner of his eye as he squeezed some limes into the bowl. Moira was turning out to be a very pretty girl, really beginning to grow into her body, losing some of the clumsiness she'd had in the past two years. Sure, she was on the skinny side, without much of a chest to speak of, but give her some time and she'd be breaking hearts left and right. Just like her papa.

"Who was that?" he asked, as she closed her cell phone with a snap.

"Oh, that was someone who sat next to me in one of my lectures today," she said airily, putting the phone in her pocket.

"Does this someone have a name?"

"Ethan Barnes." Moira smiled in a way that Duo had seen ladies in TV shows do before when an especially cute guy was in their midst. "He's real nice," she said, pushing back a wayward strand of hair that was escaping from the messy bun she'd pinned up.

"Oh?" Duo grinned. "Does that mean I get to show him the special album that I've been compiling all these years?"

Moira's eyes widened so much Duo could see the whites all around. "You  
wouldn't," she hissed.

"Honey, I've been saving the disk we have of your play in second grade just for when you bring your boyfriends over," he said.

"Ha! That's nothing," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "It was only me dressing up as a banana in 'The Rainbow Connection'."

"I know. That's only a prelude to your third grade play. Don't you remember the Fairy Fiasco?" Duo sprinkled some salt and pepper onto the beef, grinning when Moira squeaked. "I still have to show that to Papa, you know. And no, I'm not telling you where the disk is. Why don't you get your bag upstairs? Then you can help me make the soup."

Moira glared at him. "I'll find it somehow," she said grimly, turning on her heel and going upstairs.

"Don't forget to wash your hands!" Duo called after her. He heard her phone ringing again, this time with Flowers for Kendall's "Sunrise On My Doorstep," Audrey's signature ringtone. Moira answered with a short "Yo," as she went up the stairs, voice drifting down the hall as she reached the second floor.

Duo gave the marinated meat a few flips with his spatula, so that it was all coated evenly. He hadn't made this in a while, so he hoped it'd still taste okay, like the pancakes did. If not, he had the soup to save it all, as soon as Moira got done washing her hands.

There was a loud shout from upstairs, followed by hurried squeals of "sorry" over and over, followed by Moira's footsteps pattering into her room. All right, so maybe dinner would have to wait a little longer.

Duo suppressed a chuckle as Moira wrinkled her nose in distaste. "I'm not watching _that_," she said, rising from her spot on the floor.

"Too bad. You don't know what you're missing," he sang out.

"_That_" was a documentary on the techniques used to combat HIV dating from its precolony days to the present. Since the pretty redhead on the television screen was talking about how the patients reacted to the introduction of integrase into their bodies, Duo guessed that the documentary hadn't really begun, since that had happened in the early 2000s before the switch to the AC system.

He watched Moira shove both hands into the pockets of her skirt and slink off, presumably to watch something else on her computer. Duo shuddered; for someone so smart, it couldn't be _that_ entertaining to watch a girl scream obscenities at passing cars, pour water on herself, and run around punching men in the balls for an hour every Tuesday. Her phone rang with Audrey's ringtone, and he heard her answer as she headed into the foyer.

"That's the sixth time she's been on the phone tonight." He felt Heero plop down next to him on the couch, then shift to throw his legs over Duo's knees.

"I guess she made some new friends. She and Audrey are comparing notes right now," he answered, wiggling a little to get comfortable. Heero was still skinny, even after the growth spurt, but there was more of him taking up space, and the extra height and weight took some getting used to even now. "Oof. I think I liked it better when you were small."

Heero kicked him. "What are you watching?" he asked.

"Something on the progress of AIDS medication. They're going straight from the beginning. Right now it's at integrase," Duo said, rubbing his injured thigh. "Ow. Your kicks are nasty."

Heero didn't say anything, but settled back onto the cushions to watch. The narrator had moved on to talk about the effects of AZT and integrase used in a combination for AIDS patients, with the television displaying rows of pill bottles.

"That's a familiar sight." Duo waved at the screen. "Except, minus a bottle or so." During the gene therapy Heero had had, there were so many bottles that they couldn't see half the counter for a month.

"Think you're funny, don't you?" Heero said, not turning away from the screen. "At least I'm seeing them on television and not here."

"Yeah, that's a hell of a lot better, isn't it?" Duo put his feet up on the coffee table, stretching his arms.

This first day off had been pretty damned good.

The clock on the nightstand read 11:57. Again, like this morning, Duo was having trouble falling asleep. Unlike this morning, though, Heero was still sitting up in bed with the lights on, reading yet another science journal from the huge stack he had beside the bed.

"Hey, you gonna finish up soon? I wanna sleep."

Heero didn't answer, but flipped another page and continued reading.

"Oh, come on." Duo turned over, pushing the pillow back. "You can read it tomorrow."

"Then let me finish this article," Heero muttered. "There's going to be a lecture about it at the convention next month."

Duo groaned, turning back around and mashing his face into the pillow. He couldn't sleep unless it was dark. "That's not for a while!"

"There's more I need to look at. I'm almost done."

"Heero, it's midnight! Unless," Duo rose up and leaned over so his mouth was right next to Heero's ear, "you're still going to be up and about after reading all those, and then _maybe_ I wouldn't mind." He slid an arm around the other man's shoulders. "We could do something _fun_."

The next thing he knew, he'd gotten a sharp whack across the nose with the science journal and a shove towards his side of the bed.

"Good _night_, Duo." Heero's tone was pointed, turning off the light and rolling over.

Duo rubbed his nose and smiled to himself in the dark. _Now_ he could sleep, and hopefully this time he wouldn't have to get up until seven in the morning.

He really needed to get more days off.


	5. Chapter 5

True North  
Chapter 5  
Pairing: 2x1  
Category: AU  
Warning: OC kid  
Gundam Wing copyright Bandai, Sunrise, and Sotsu Agency. "Eien no  
Rhapsody" copyright Midori Saiha/Ringo Zaidan. "Da Dip" copyright  
Freak Nasty. "Extraordinary" copyright Liz Phair.

Much thanks to Diamroyal for beta reading and giving me info on how  
cons are run, and to Rich for supplying me with the idea in the first  
place and giving extra help as I went along.

"I put my hand upon yo' hip, when I dip, you dip, we dip..."

"Honey, could you turn that off for a sec? I need to talk to you for  
a moment." Duo stood in the doorway of Moira's room, leaning against  
the doorjamb. He'd heard that song—an old, old one—played over and  
over for the past September, and much as he considered himself  
laid-back, it was extremely disturbing to see his daughter listening  
to a song that encouraged the listeners to have a good old makeout  
session right on the dance floor.

He was turning thirty-one next month. Technically, that was in the  
prime of his life, but feeling disturbed about that song made him feel  
a lot older.

"Hold on," Moira said. Her fingers typed furiously on her laptop for  
a few seconds. "There. Needed to get that done. What is it?"

"Well," Duo began, walking into her room, "you know about the con  
that's coming up in a week or so, right?"

"Uh-huh..." Moira's eyes looked wary. "What about it? Is there  
something you want me to do while you two are gone?" The middle finger  
of her right hand tapped nervously on the steel desk where she was  
sitting.

"You're almost right," Duo said. "This time," he held one finger up  
in the air, "you're going with us."

Moira's middle finger stopped in mid-air. "What?"

Duo put both hands on the edge of the desk and leaned over to look  
her in the eyes. He needed her full attention for this. "You're in  
college now, Moira, and it's a good time for you to start networking.  
This is one of the biggest cons, and there are tons of good contacts  
to pick up. It's gonna be real important for your future."

"But..." Moira said, "that's when my fall break is. Are we going to  
be gone for the entire time?" She kept her voice modulated, but Duo  
could tell that she wasn't too happy.

"Yes, we are," Duo shrugged, surveying the room. "Is that a problem?"  
Moira was messier than usual today. Normally she was tidy, with  
everything more or less in place—definitely something she'd gotten  
from Heero—but right now her room resembled a war zone right after a  
tornado had taken place. Her sneakers were right next to Duo's feet,  
carelessly kicked off from the looks of it, papers and the special  
e-books for her classes were scattered all over the entire desk, and  
in the middle was the laptop, which still looked okay, but if she kept  
taking her coffee upstairs, would probably have some nasty spills on  
the keyboard. The quilt Relena had made for her was tossed aside, some  
of it spilling onto the floor and some of it crumpled up on the mattress.

The growing heap of clothes near her dresser was the highlight. A few  
more days, Duo estimated, and there wouldn't be any visible floor  
space in here at all.

Finally, Moira sighed, leaning back in her chair and cracking her  
knuckles. "I've just been busy lately. I thought it'd be a good idea  
to take a rest before midterms come up."

"Sorry, kiddo." Duo patted her upper arm, squeezing it through the  
sleeve of her cardigan. "See if you can hold out, okay? Oh, and clean  
up your room."

"I would, but I'm busy," Moira grumbled. Duo shrugged again, gave  
her one final pat, and then left. She'd come around when it was time  
to go, and if she didn't, well, she'd come with them anyway, because  
this was an opportunity not to be passed up.

Heero found Moira up on the roof, with her laptop instead of the  
guitar this time. Despite the cool weather, she didn't have a jacket  
on; only her polo and cargo pants, with her sneakers at her knees.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" he asked. He didn't climb up onto the  
roof, after all, he wasn't one to try and invade her space if she  
didn't want it.

"It's fine, Papa," Moira replied absentmindedly. She seemed intrigued  
by whatever it was on the laptop, judging by her intense stare.

"It's not fine. Come inside," Heero said. That got her to only cock  
her head in his direction, with the expression that usually meant she  
was in deep thought. It meant she was about to ask some questions that  
he might not want to answer. He'd seen it on Duo before.

"Can I ask you something? What made you so happy in that picture?"  
Moira asked.

"What picture?"

"The one that's hanging up at the labs you established. You know,  
this one," she said, turning the laptop around. The screen showed the  
portrait they'd taken of Heero when the labs had started running.  
Moira circled her index finger around the portrait's face and handed  
it over to him. "Look at that. You look like you couldn't be happier.  
What did that?"

Heero took the laptop, gazing at the picture thoughtfully for a few  
seconds. "Duo came into the room at that moment. I was happy to see  
him," he finally said. "The photographer asked me to smile, but I told  
him that wasn't necessary and Duo walked in. That's all." He shut the  
laptop. "Now, will you come inside?"

"So Dad makes you happy?" Moira asked.

Heero sighed. "Of course he does. Why wouldn't he?"

"Well, I haven't really seen you smile since you've been here," she  
pointed out, scooting closer to the windowsill.

"I'm not that sort of person, Moira." The truth was that sometimes he  
thought he was dreaming; that it couldn't possibly be true that now he  
had more time, that he was able to see Duo again, and that he was  
healthy. He always had to assure himself that this was real, that he  
was here, and that he wouldn't wake up from this. It was some odd form  
of logic; if he acted too happy, then either he, Duo or Moira would  
disappear.

"I know that," she said, her face serious in the moonlight, and for a  
moment, Heero thought he was looking at his reflection, the  
resemblance was so uncanny. "I guess there's been a lot to deal with  
since you've woken up. Maybe because it's sixty-five years ahead of  
your time, maybe it's because you're still recovering from Dad's gene  
therapy, and maybe it's because of me."

"That's not true and you know it," Heero snapped. "I'm not as  
expressive as Duo and that's that."

"I _don't_ know," she replied. There wasn't a trace of her usual  
impishness; no quirk of the lips or eyebrows; a grave, watchful  
expression had taken its place. "If I did, I wouldn't ask."

"Why do you want to know? Moreover, what makes you think this has to  
do with you?"

"Because you don't seem to like me." Moira was now sitting on the  
windowsill, dangling her legs inside. "Because if Dad makes you  
happy," she pointed at Heero, "then you'd be happy. Screw  
expressiveness, people would be able to tell. But if Dad's here and  
you're not happy, then it's got to be something else."

She paused, looking at Heero thoughtfully for a few seconds with an  
unblinking stare, tilting her head this way and that. He found it  
unnerving.

"You're healthy," she began slowly, "so that leaves the disease out.  
But you've never really talked to me unless you had to, and I swear to  
God I've seen you look at me like you wouldn't know what to do with me  
at all. And I'm not saying it has to be a happy family reunion, but  
where's the love?"

He didn't know what to do with Moira, he realized. It had been  
simple when she was a baby and he could cradle her in his arms, feed  
her, or bounce her up and down to keep her occupied. She was teething  
and sitting up on her own when he was put into coldsleep, and he'd  
woken up to find a teenage girl in her place with no hint of the baby  
he'd left behind. And since, really, he was a teenager himself, he  
didn't know where to start with her and actually be a father. Hell, it  
probably wasn't possible.

"I don't know what to do with you. But that doesn't mean you should  
take it personally," he said, placing the laptop in her hands.

"That smile of yours is really something," she said, just as he was  
about to walk off.

"Moira, it's late and we're leaving for the convention tomorrow."

"Yeah, I know." Moira slid off the windowsill, sneakers in one hand  
and the laptop in the other. "But I was so captivated by that  
picture. Your smile really has an effect on people, y'know? I can't  
describe it, but there's this warmth that I felt that made me want  
to smile too. And I thought that I'd be able to see the real thing  
from you." There was a wistfulness to her voice that he hadn't heard  
before.

"But if I don't make you happy, I suppose I was wrong. You learn  
something new every day," she said. "I'm turning in now. Good night."  
With that, Moira slipped past Heero, out of his room, and down the hall.

All he could do was stare after her, long after their conversation  
had ended. There was something wrong, and he had a feeling that if he  
didn't figure it out soon, the tension between them would come to a  
head, and when that happened, there was a possibility that the  
resulting damage would be irreparable.

"Here we are." Duo slipped the keycard into the lock of the hotel  
room. The light on the lock's screen turned blue, accompanied with a  
soft musical tinkle, and the door slid open.

The hotel room was spacious, with two queen-sized beds side by side,  
with a desk and television set across from them. The far wall had a  
large window that displayed a sprawling view of L3. Duo whistled. This  
was a very nice hotel that they'd gotten to lodge in, all because he  
was the featured speaker for the convention. Unfortunately, since it  
was overbooked, the entire family had to stay in one room. Moira  
hadn't been too happy when she heard that.

"So, what do you think?" Duo asked, turning to the other two. Moira  
didn't say anything, but walked right past him, thumping her bags onto  
the bed closest to the window.

"It's nice," Heero muttered, blinking rapidly. He was still getting  
used to the colored contacts that Duo had suggested getting. Heero  
wanted to go investigate the lectures that this con had in great  
detail, but if he was going to talk with some of the theory professors  
that would be in attendance, he couldn't go as who he was. They  
planned to announce his revival shortly after Duo's lecture, but in  
the meantime, Heero needed to disguise himself. For that, he'd not  
only gotten brown colored contacts to disguise his eye color, but Duo  
had made him go without shaving for a week before they'd left for L3.  
Luckily, the glasses he'd worn before when working in the labs were  
still around thanks to Relena, so those had come along with some of  
Duo's old clothes for him to wear.

Duo thought about telling Heero that the beard was coming off as soon  
as he gave the lecture. It wasn't very flattering on him. He guessed  
Moira thought the same thing, given her suppressed giggles throughout  
the entire trip.

"You can take out the contacts after dinner, you know. We all gotta  
rest, and I need to start looking over my notes for the lecture," Duo  
said, gesturing Heero to move ahead. They'd need to start thinking  
about dinner right about now, Duo thought. He was hungry, and if they  
didn't get something to eat, his stomach was going to make sure  
everyone knew that. But just as he was about to suggest that, he heard  
a scraping sound against the wall. As he walked further inside, he saw  
Moira adjusting the painting that hung between the two beds.

"Moira, what are you doing?" he asked, exasperated.

"This picture isn't straight." She sounded peeved, concentrating on  
tilting the frame more to the left.

"It looks fine to me," Heero said.

Moira snorted. "No, it's not. It's three degrees to the right. Well,  
it was," she corrected, examining her handiwork.

"How do you know it's exactly three degrees? It could have been four  
or two."

"Whoa, whoa. Let's get something to eat, all right?" Duo made a  
"time-out" gesture with his hands, just as Moira had opened her mouth  
for what would have likely been a smartass remark. "It's been a long  
ride in the shuttle to L3, and I know," he turned to Heero, "that  
those contacts are really bothering you, and," turning to Moira,  
"you're on the worst day of your period, so let's find some dinner and  
go to bed, because we've got three big days ahead of us. Okay?"

Heero shrugged. "Fine." Moira just huffed and tossed her head.

"Just because you're on your time of the month doesn't excuse your  
attitude, young lady. Change it," Duo warned, shaking a finger in her  
face. "Let's all get washed up, and head downstairs to the hotel  
restaurant. Then everyone gets a shower and bed." He left for the  
bathroom, leaving his gaping daughter behind. The sooner they were all  
in bed, the better. He was exhausted from the shuttle ride just as  
much as the other two were, and if he was going to be in any condition  
to talk with all those high-up theorists and scientists on the first  
day, he was going to need all the rest he could get.

The first day hadn't gone well. Duo had been amazed by the sheer  
amount of people that had been there in the convention hall; he hadn't  
realized that there would be so many in attendance, but then again, it  
was one of the most famous science conventions everywhere. Still, he  
hadn't thought that it'd be crawling from top to bottom with people.

The opening speech had been from Rob Bollman, one of the most  
respected scientists who'd just become an emeritus in the University  
of L4. Bollman was responsible for research that had made great leaps  
and bounds towards a possible cure for Parkinson's disease. For  
someone who had been one of the highest mucky-mucks in the field  
according to Dr. J, Duo had been pleasantly surprised by his  
down-to-earth attitude; it was a welcome change from previous  
conventions where the opening speakers had spent time droning on and  
on while he could feel their arrogance coming off of them like  
cartoon stink waves. With Bollman, both he and Heero had had their  
eyes riveted to the podium, the man had been so excited about his  
work, and even Moira perked up when he'd literally bounded onto the  
stage. For someone in his seventies, Rob Bollman was going to be  
around for a long, long time if his energy was any indication.

After that, the three of them had gone their separate ways, planning  
to meet up at one in the afternoon for lunch. Duo had been barraged  
almost immediately by the theorists from the top universities on Earth  
and the colonies, so all he could do was watch as Heero and Moira  
wandered off in opposite directions.

With the exception of two people, the theorists had been absolutely  
excruciating to talk to. Because it was a convention, they were all  
smiles, but every now and then, Duo got veiled remarks that tried to  
poke his research apart, like asking for viable results, or any  
evidence that he would happen to have on him that they could look at.  
He had to keep his tone pleasant and modulated while telling them that  
if they were that interested, they were more than welcome to attend  
the presentation he was giving on the last day. When he'd said that,  
one of them, a rotund man in his fifties, smirked and asked him if  
this was the first one that he'd given in his entire life. By the time  
Duo was through with them, he'd learned something else; pettiness  
never went away, no matter how old you got.

Never mind getting his research poked apart; Duo needed more than his  
fingers and toes to count how many jabs he'd gotten for discovering  
the cure for a disease at the age of thirty. Just before he'd managed  
to get through the crowd, an old woman pulled him aside with a tight  
little smile and whispered, "Don't let the bastards get you down, son."

Duo had smiled gratefully and said, "Thanks, I'll remember that,"  
before rushing off to a lecture on his program that was starting down  
the hall, with the crowd following him. He'd only managed to glance at  
that one abstract in the schedule right after the opening speech  
before he'd been mobbed.

Now back in the hotel room, he snorted to himself. Maybe he needed  
a disguise too, he thought, looking at Heero, who had just come out of  
the bathroom rubbing his eyes furiously.

"Contacts still bothering you?" Duo asked. "They're the soft kind,  
you know."

"I don't like them," Heero grumbled. He sat down on the edge of the  
bed that he and Duo shared, picking up his schedule on the nightstand.

"Looks like you really got around today, huh?" Duo scooted over,  
trying to look over Heero's shoulder. "Where did you go?"

His answer was an elbow to the ribs. "If you're patient, I'll let you  
see some handouts once I'm done. I haven't been able to read some of  
them yet, thanks to those stupid contacts. Did you know that I nearly  
tripped and fell down the stairs today?"

"What, because of your eyes?" Duo flopped onto his side and turned  
the TV on for the news. He decided that he could wait a little bit  
before hopping in for a shower and then heading off to bed. His hair  
felt like it could use a good rinsing.

"That, and wearing clothes that don't _fit_." Heero flopped an  
oversized sleeve in Duo's face. "Your size and mine are at least two  
apart."

Duo grinned, flopping it back. "At least you've grown. If you hadn't,  
I'd just put you in Moira's clothes. You two were about the same size  
for a while."

Heero punched Duo hard on the shoulder while Moira, who was on the  
other bed, looked up from her laptop and yelled, "Dad, that's _sick_!"

"Honey, I know you own at least one pair of pants that aren't bootcut  
and at least one shirt that's not form-fitting," Duo said, giving her  
a cursory glance in her direction before turning back to grin up at  
Heero.

"You wouldn't," Heero said dangerously as Moira howled in the  
background. His fist was up again, prepared to strike Duo if he said  
"Yes, I would." Duo gave him a level stare for a few seconds before  
shrugging and turning towards the TV screen.

"Well, not now, of course, but before you were a half-inch shorter  
than Moira, you know. I never saw you happier than the day you found  
out you could finally see over the top of her head," he said, ignoring  
yet another anguished squawk from his daughter. The TV was on  
commercial, displaying an ad for a local department store.

"It wasn't right," Heero muttered. At this point, he seemed really  
interested in his schedule for the lectures he'd attended, or, judging  
by some of the dates he'd circled within its numerous pages, would  
attend tomorrow. The lecture Duo had managed to go to before stumbling  
over to meet the others for lunch had talked about blue roses and how  
the researchers were trying to get them to grow in other shades beside  
sky blue. It had been interesting, to say the least, because so far,  
Relena had an entire bush of the things growing in her garden, and he  
knew that she'd be tickled to learn that they were planning on making  
more in different tones.

That, and it was also one of the only lectures he could attend that  
wasn't by someone who was a jealous prick due to his research.

Finally, the news came on, with a pretty Indian anchor lady at the  
desk reporting on a story about a scandal on L4; the local branch of  
Wong Industries had been caught in an embezzlement scheme that had  
possible leads to its home location on Earth. Wong was a company that  
dealt in Earth-colony trade. This wasn't the first time that they'd  
been caught in a scandal; two years ago they'd been nabbed for  
importing counterfeit food products.

At least they weren't covering the convention, Duo thought. He didn't  
need the media following him around too.

The report changed to the weather forecast. The weather machines with  
colonies were always random with rain and snow to create an Earth-like  
atmosphere, except there weren't any storms or tornadoes. If there was  
a blizzard, it meant that the weather machine needed to be fixed. As  
he'd spent more time on Earth, Duo had found the whole colony weather  
thing a bit crazy.

"So," he asked Heero, "what lectures did you attend today?"

Heero paused, picking up his notebook, also lying on the nightstand,  
and then riffling through it. "These," he said, pulling out a few  
handouts and giving them to Duo. He skimmed them, looking at the  
titles, and whistled. Heero had gotten a lot done with catching up; so  
far, the lectures he'd attended were the latest developments in botany  
and medicine. Duo knew that if he glanced at the notebook in Heero's  
hands, the pages would be filled from edge to edge with notes.

"How far have you caught up?" he asked. The news had now gone on to  
sports; but since they hadn't covered American football yet, Duo  
wasn't really paying attention.

"I can't say," Heero replied, absentmindedly. "There's still at least  
a ten year gap, but it's closing in. I learned a great deal, though,  
so I think I'll be prepared for retaking cert by April."

Duo nodded approvingly. "I didn't think you'd have much trouble. Maybe  
tomorrow I'll be able to attend some lectures myself," he said. He  
groaned, as the TV displayed a fumble for one of the American football  
teams. "Oh, come on! You can do better than that!"

With that, the program ended, only to segue into the Late Show with  
Ron Holkins. Duo turned the TV off, because anything that came out of  
Ron's mouth was usually crap, along with the unfunniest stuff he'd  
seen in his life. He liked Erick Geffen a lot better, but that wasn't  
coming on for another hour, and he felt dead tired.

"You know, I sat in on a lecture that talked about the physics in  
football," Moira began. "It was pretty cool, but hunting down the  
assistants was really hard work."

"Terrific," Duo said, lurching off the bed and stumbling towards the  
bathroom. Man, was he ever exhausted. Tomorrow had got to be better.

"I wasn't finished yet," Moira snapped.

Heero's hand was still gripping Moira's elbow as the two of them got  
to the hotel room, despite the girl's frequent attempts to break free.  
Even though it had taken some getting used to, he now saw that the  
extra height and weight that he had gained as an advantage; without  
either, there was no way he'd have been able to drag her all the way  
down one flight of stairs, out of the convention hall, down a few  
blocks to the hotel, and then up the elevator to their room.

"You can let me go now," Moira grumbled, twisting her arm this way  
and that.

Heero waited until he'd unlocked the door before releasing her. She  
stalked past him and plopped down on the foot of her bed in a huff,  
rubbing her arm. "What the hell was that for?"

"You could have damaged your reputation. You know that," he said  
quietly, taking off his glasses.

"I didn't _say_ anything," Moira said peevishly, taking out her  
digital camera and scanning through the pictures on the tiny  
viewfinder screen on its back.

"Maybe not, but if I hadn't gotten there in time, you probably would  
have." He polished one of the lenses with the hem of his polo shirt  
and then shuffled into the bathroom. The contacts needed to come out  
now because his eyes felt wretched. Heero hadn't even looked in the  
mirror yet, but he knew that they'd probably be bloodshot by now.

The lectures he'd attended today focused on the latest medical  
research; yesterday, he'd attended ones that had been more  
general—they'd just focused on biology as a whole. Tomorrow, he'd zone  
in further on the medical research, because that was when Duo was  
giving his lecture on curing what was now dubbed Yuy Disease, and  
while he'd had firsthand knowledge of what the whole thing was all  
about, Duo had had some notes on how this could lead to curing Sudden  
Infant Death Syndrome, which was a stronger variant of it.

Duo had said that they hadn't found out about the connection until  
about AC 212 or so, and that while they'd been able to develop a test  
to administer on babies for both diseases, there still wasn't a cure  
for Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. This was his next research project,  
and he'd asked Heero to partner up with him as soon as he'd been  
recertified.

Luckily, today's lectures had proven to be very enlightening and like  
yesterday, he'd gained a better understanding of what he'd been  
looking through in all those old science journals he'd gotten in the  
library or online on Duo's laptop. He'd taken so many notes that there  
was only a quarter of the notebook's pages left blank.

There. Now both the contacts were out and floating in their individual  
capsules, and he hadn't dropped one on the floor like yesterday. He'd  
found the missing lens hanging on the edge of the countertop, and  
almost forgot to clean it off before putting it in. Heero sighed in  
relief and rubbed his eyes. This was the last time he was wearing  
them, and the last time he'd be keeping the stubble on his chin; he  
wanted a shave, and badly.

Tomorrow, Duo was going to announce that he'd been revived shortly  
after the lecture. They'd both decided that was best because then it  
would keep mobs down to a minimum, though obviously, there would be at  
least one press conference with the media to contend with.

As for Moira, Heero had found her on the verge of a heated argument  
with one of the assistants from an astrophysics lecture. He'd come in  
right when said assistant, a man in his thirties, was making some  
crude remarks about Moira's age while she was trying to ask him some  
questions about the lecture with her handouts in front of her. She'd  
managed to keep calm for a while, but when the guy had told her to go  
back to kindergarten and leave the big kids' sandbox, Heero noticed  
her entire body tense, like a coiled spring. That was when he made his  
way through, grabbed Moira and muttered, "Let's go" before turning the  
other way and taking her along with him.

It was a good thing that he'd gotten there in time before she'd come  
up with a smart-aleck retort; much as that man deserved it—and he  
did—Moira couldn't risk damaging her reputation this early, even  
though she'd been trying very hard to keep a low profile here with who  
her parents were. Of course, Moira hadn't appreciated it at all. She'd  
muttered angrily about how she was able to take care of herself the  
entire way back. And maybe she would have been able to, but it  
wasn't something Heero wanted to risk at this point.

"See me jump through hoops for you, you stand there watching me  
performing...what exactly do you do..." Heero had heard Moira playing  
that song on her guitar often, while she was taking a study break. Of  
course, now she was listening to it on the Seashell and singing along;  
he'd seen that, along with the compact stack of mp3 sticks, in her bag  
when they'd left for the spaceport.

The door to the bedroom slid open, and he heard Duo come in with a  
loud, satisfied "Ahhhh."

"You're back," Heero said.

"That I am, and it's been a better day than yesterday." Duo walked  
into the bathroom, putting his hands on Heero's shoulders and  
massaging them. "I talked to business people, and when they weren't  
trying to compete for my attention, they were terrific. I've got more  
offers than I know what to do with."

"Are you going to take any of th—ow, that hurts." Heero winced; Duo's  
fingers were pressing too deeply into his shoulders.

"Sorry." Duo grinned sheepishly and lightened the pressure. "I still  
need to look over what I got and then decide, you know? Got approached  
by universities and private companies, and the amounts they're  
offering for funding are unbelievable. The best part, though, was that  
I got to attend more than one lecture today. Finally!" He grinned  
again, ear-to-ear, and gave Heero an enthusiastic bear hug.

Once he could breathe again, Heero asked, "Will there be time for you  
to prepare for yours tomorrow?"

"My what? Oh, my _lecture_. Yeah, I don't see why not. I'll need to go  
over my notes tonight, but I don't present until about five tomorrow,  
and I've got until then to prepare, really. I think I can do it." Duo  
shrugged. "I want to look over the notes on the lectures I attended  
today first, though. So, what about you? I suppose you're enjoying the  
con."

"It was like yesterday. I covered a lot of ground. If you want, you  
can take a look at my notes, they're inside the schedule on the  
nightstand."

"Oooh, I think I'll do that, then we can go to dinner." Duo rubbed his  
hands together excitedly and left the bathroom.

"When can I shave?" Heero rubbed his chin, scowling at his reflection  
in the mirror; even though he'd gone unshaven for five days, there  
wasn't _that_ much growth, but it was definitely visible and  
definitely irritating.

"Not now," Duo said from outside. He could hear him flipping the  
schedule's pages rapidly. "You can go without the contacts, I think,  
but keep the beard until we get back from dinner unless you're  
planning to use the pool or take a walk around the hotel."

"That'll do."

"Good. Give me some time to look over these and we'll pick a place to  
eat." The mattress creaked as he heard Duo sit down and lean back. A  
glance at his watch told Heero that if Duo wanted to have time to go  
over notes for tomorrow's lecture, they had to start looking for a  
restaurant in thirty-five minutes.

"I'm so glad that's over with," Duo said, putting down his glass of  
water after taking a long, deep drink. "I thought they'd never let us  
out of that convention hall. You'd think that one press conference  
would have made em happy, but..."

"At least we _got_ out," Heero pointed out. Duo groaned, glancing at  
the dark sky outside their window. It was almost ten and they'd just  
finished eating; that's how late the mobs had kept them. He'd nearly  
passed out from hunger when they'd entered the restaurant in the  
hotel, and the other two hadn't been much better. In fact, Moira had  
pretty much collapsed face first at the table once they'd found seats.

"Yeah, well, I hope that's it." Duo leaned back in his chair. The  
mobbing had reached its peak on the last day of the con, and he hadn't  
fully realized it until he saw the lecture hall packed from corner to  
corner with audience members, and probably a lot more outside trying  
to hear him.

The lecture itself went off without a hitch. He'd been a bit nervous,  
especially after the other scientists were at least ten to twenty  
years older and giving him the evil eye. Duo would have thought he'd  
imagined it if he hadn't known any better. And of course, most of them  
had to be sitting in the front row with a look that said, "I'm  
watching you, Maxwell."

But then he spotted the theorist who'd talked to him on the first day  
sitting in one of the middle rows and remembered what she'd told him.  
Then he'd spotted Heero a few rows behind her and finally decided that  
whatever a few bitter old men and women thought wasn't worth a damn.

He'd planned two and a half hours for the lecture: one and a half for  
the lecture itself and the remaining hour for the question and answer  
session. The lecture had sped by, since he'd spent forever earlier  
today going over and over things again, making sure the projection  
equipment worked, and formulating answers to any odd questions that  
could come up. The real thing made him feel like he was doing it in  
his sleep. Even now he couldn't really remember what it was like up  
there. The same could be said for the question and answer session. He  
could weep with joy over how smoothly it went. Even the old bastards  
in the front didn't give him any trouble.

No, it was the announcement of Heero's revival that had started  
causing the ruckus. They had both braced themselves for the reaction  
among those present, but it still was, as a dazed Moira put it,  
"absofuckinglutely batshit insane." Once they'd managed to get out of  
the lecture hall, there'd been an ocean of people barraging them with  
so many questions that Duo couldn't understand anything. He felt like  
he'd get knocked down by the sheer amount of sound that these people  
produced if not trampled outright.

Within an hour they'd already had the major news networks staging a  
press conference. After an hour, though, Heero had had enough and  
broke it off. The three of them had to literally swim through the  
crowd to get to an exit and haul ass to the hotel, where, thankfully,  
they finally got to eat some dinner at nine.

They'd known that there was going to be a press conference, but Duo  
had somehow forgotten what a pain in the ass they could be. There was  
something very irritating about having to answer the same questions  
over and over again for different people. Duo couldn't blame Heero for  
ending it so abruptly. While he'd gotten less spontaneously aggressive  
with age, by the time the interviews were over he was ready to hit  
something. The only thing preventing that from actually happening was  
the imaginary headline "Maxwell Goes Berserk At Press Conference"  
flashing in his head.

The waitress came by to pick up their empty plates. After she left,  
Duo rose from the table and headed to the card swiper next to the  
entrance, taking out the labs' payment card and sliding it through.  
The total that appeared on the swiper display made him flinch; he was  
damn glad that this wasn't on his own tab, because while they hadn't  
had any choice for where to eat, it was a hell of a lot more than he'd  
ever be prepared to pay for.

He waved Heero and Moira over from their table. Now they could go back  
to their room, but there was still the issue of packing. They had to  
leave for the spaceport at nine in the morning, so everything had to  
be done tonight.

Of course, Duo hadn't counted on Moira immediately locking herself in  
the bathroom, only to emerge in a huge plush bathrobe with an equally  
plush towel over her arm.

"Stop right there, kiddo. Where do you think /you're/ going?"

Moira exhaled loudly in that way only teenagers—or those who thought  
they were still teenagers—could, and said, "To the hot tub. I thought  
I'd soak in it before it closes."

"Honey," Duo began, "we need to pack, because tomorrow morning we're  
going straight for the spaceport. We don't have much time."

"I can pack my things in less than half an hour, so don't worry about  
me," Moira retorted, one hand on her hip.

"Moira—"

"Look, it's been a hard day for everyone here. And I know you're going  
to say that you and Papa had it the worst. But in case you've  
forgotten, I'm still here and I was still involved in all the chaos  
that ensued, and I am _tired_," Moira said, clenching both fists. "I  
have been quiet about this whole thing, not really complaining about  
it even though I _told_ you that I was in need of a break from  
college. Well, this is the only time I'm going to have it before I go  
back to my labs, classes and nine-to-five schedule, and I'm taking it  
_now_." She stabbed a finger at the ground.

"I've gotten contacts, I've learned more about physics, so yes, I do  
appreciate the educational value of the con, but if I don't get to  
soak in that hot tub there is going to be hell to pay, so help me  
God." With that, she spun on her heel and stomped out of their room,  
leaving Duo dumbfounded.

"That's the most I've heard her talk since we came here," Heero said  
dryly, going to the doorway. He'd apparently been quietly packing  
during the whole thing; Duo saw the sleeves of a shirt tossed over his  
forearms.

"It'll blow over," he finally said, waving a hand dismissively. "Just  
watch, she'll come back all relaxed from the hot tub and pack and  
it'll be like the whole thing never happened. Speaking of relaxing,"  
he took the shirt from Heero, "why don't you let me pack? Go take a  
nice shower or something. You deserve it."

"Duo..."

"C'mon," Duo pushed Heero towards the bathroom. "Leave it to me. I'll  
be fine, honest."

He'd be damn fine. The convention was finally over, leaving the  
knowledge that he'd never have to do that again for a long time in its  
wake.


	6. Chapter 6

True North  
Chapter 6  
Pairing: 2x1  
Category: AU  
Warning: OC kid, angst due to shit hitting the fan.  
Gundam Wing copyright Bandai, Sunrise, and Sotsu Agency. "Eien no  
Rhapsody" copyright Midori Saiha/Ringo Zaidan.

Thanks to Diamroyal for beta reading!

The clock on Moira's cell phone read 15:56. She closed her eyes and  
sighed. Four more minutes and she was done with the lab, two more  
hours after that and she could go home.

Of course, that was assuming Quatre, their TA, gave them the  
all-clear after his inspection of their lab areas. Usually that was  
the case, but there had been a few offenders that had left out a few  
rulers or weights, depending on what the experiment was that day. One  
of the rules with Quatre's labs was that nobody could leave until they  
got the all-clear, so any delays pissed Moira off a great deal.

She froze as Quatre stopped at the station next to her. He reached  
over and picked something up off the lab counter, then turned to the  
two people there: Ben Stewart and Lily Tao.

"Were you two planning on saving this for the next pair to clean up?"  
he asked in his usual mild tenor. As Lily stammered for an answer, her  
glossy pink lips opening and closing wordlessly, Moira spotted a  
washer that her partner Ron Page failed to pick up. While Quatre had  
his back turned, she snuck it back into the plastic bag where it  
originally belonged. She was lucky; Quatre's eyes were so sharp that  
he'd probably have spotted it before any of them did if it hadn't been  
for Ben and Lily.

"Since this is the first time, I'll let you off easy. But if it  
happens again, I'll have to drop both of you from the class." Even  
though his tone was still mild, the look in his blue-green eyes was  
dead serious. "I'm sorry, but frankly, you should know better." He  
handed back the weight and moved onto Moira and Ron's station, giving  
their area a once-over before nodding approvingly.

"Before you all leave today, I've got a few announcements. These are  
important," he said, raising his voice over the students' loud groans,  
"so I think it's best if you listen for a bit."

He walked to the light blue flatscreen at the front of the room,  
taking a stylus out of his shirt pocket as he did so.

"I will be gone December 5th, which is our final lab for the term.  
This is because I'm defending my thesis. Jane will be overseeing in my  
place. I'll still have office hours if you have any questions. They  
are from five to seven," he wrote on the flatscreen with the stylus,  
"in seven-two-six Kettering. Also," as he wrote the room number on the  
screen, "I am considering having a review session for the final exam.  
Time and place are yet to be determined," here, he ran a hand through  
his short blond hair, "so please email me at Q winner at blair dot  
E-D-U when you are available during finals week and where you would  
like to have it."

He wrote the email address underneath the office hours and room  
number, trailing off the "U" with a flourish before putting the stylus  
back into his pocket and turning towards the class.

"Other than that, remember to have six trials recorded for the data  
portion of the lab, and be as concise as you can. I've got other  
things to do than to read the novels you call conclusions. That means  
you, Miss Delacroix," he nodded pointedly over to where Sabrina, the  
aforementioned student, was. "All right. The write-up is due in a week  
at the beginning of lab, no exceptions. You're free to go."

Moira felt Ron nudge her side. "So, when do you want to go over  
this?" he asked, gathering up his bag.

She held up a finger, using her cell phone to look at her planner.  
"Sabrina, Heather, and Ethan are having a study group...tomorrow.  
That's right after we get out of work with Dina, so I think we're  
getting pizza or something."

Ron nodded vigorously, stroking his blond goatee. "I can do that," he  
said, moving out of the classroom. "Audrey'll be out, so there's no  
dating for us then. There's always the weekend, though." He grinned  
toothily.

Moira groaned, shrugging on her bag. "I swear, if it weren't for  
classes, you two would glue each other's hips together. Next time you  
see Audrey, you mind telling her that I'd like to see her around?"

"You've got her cell number and screenname. Why don't you tell her  
yourself?"

"Because she's always away on Messenger and she's got her cell off or  
busy. And you know why." Moira stared pointedly at Ron. He shrugged  
his broad shoulders, palms turned up.

"We're in love. What can I say? Anyway, come on. You're one of her  
friends from high school. Winter break's about, oh, two or three weeks  
away, and I'm going back to L2, so of course she'll come see you and  
your other friends." He gripped her scalp as her head was a  
basketball. "Braaaaain suck."

"Don't do that." Moira wrenched her head out from under Ron's hand  
and hurriedly combed out a few tangles in her loose hair. "We gotta  
run if we want to make it to work. Dina'll kill us if we're late." She  
broke into a sprint; whoever thought it was a good idea to make the  
work labs on the other side of campus deserved to be hurled off a cliff.

Ignoring Ron's protests of how he couldn't keep up, she dashed  
through the double doors and was outside in less than a minute. One  
perk of being small and thin was definitely the speed, she thought.

"How did you get that scar?" Papa asked.

"Huh?" Moira looked up from the chicken she was stir-frying, still  
making sure to stir with her spoon. In a few minutes she could turn  
the stove off and let the cooling burner cook the whole mess before  
she served it. Today it was just some instant chicken mole stuff she'd  
found in the freezer; she was too tired to really cook anything else  
besides the rice.

In fact, if it hadn't been for this morning's coffee, she'd have  
probably gone home, fallen on top of her bed and not moved for at  
least three or four hours. School was getting exhausting. But every  
time either she or anyone else complained about how little rest they'd  
been getting, Dina would shrug and say, "Welcome to college."

Then again, she was the only college student still learning how to  
drive, so for her, there was an extra hour of driving classes every night.

So it was probably no wonder that she was blinking stupidly at Papa  
while he was stacking plates for the table. For one thing, he'd  
actually asked her a question. He never tried to really initiate  
anything with her, and on top of that, it wasn't even remotely hostile.

"I said, how did you get that scar? The one on your forehead," Papa  
repeated, closing the cupboard door. Of course Moira had been bowled  
over; he'd even asked the question like he was discussing the weather.  
She reached over and switched the stove off, gave the chicken mixture  
another few quick stirs, and checked her watch. Three minutes and it'd  
go onto the platter. She had time to talk.

"It happened when I was real little, like..." she thought for a  
minute, what grade had she been in? It was with Mrs. Grayson. Second  
grade, then. "I was seven. Someone in my class told me that if I spun  
around counterclockwise, like this, I'd be able to go back in time,  
you know?"

She demonstrated, holding both arms out and twirling slowly, like a  
ballerina. "Just like that, only faster and faster. So during lunch  
recess, cause that's how long I thought it'd take to actually get  
back in time, I went inside one of the cubbies and started spinning  
like one of those crazy tops they used to have back then."

"Why did you do it?" The expression on Papa's face told Moira clearly  
that he thought it was a bad—no, _horrible_ idea. She paused,  
gathering her thoughts together; to this day, only Dad and Nana Relena  
knew why she did it. The others hadn't asked, chalking it up to crazy  
kid stuff.

"Well," she said slowly, "I thought that if I went fast enough, I  
could go far enough back in time to see you, you know? And I _wanted_  
to see you; Dad and Nana told all these stories, and I got curious.  
There's really not much to go on with pictures after a while." She  
poked the chicken with her spoon; it felt done, so she took the  
platter waiting on the counter and poured the skillet's contents on it.

"Anyway," she continued, going to the dishwasher and opening the door,  
"I got really dizzy and I thought that meant that it was working. But  
what happened was that I fell and hit one of the window edges. Those  
things are made of metal, and I found out that day that they're  
_sharp_. You know, like a knife." She put in the dirty skillet and  
closed the door. Dishes could wait until after dinner, but the area  
needed to be clean.

"It was awful, I was screaming my head off, blood was everywhere on my  
face and my shirt...man." Moira laughed nervously, untying her apron  
strings. "You'd think," she slid the apron off, "that I got killed  
or something. There were other kids screaming and freaking out when  
they found me, and the teacher hauled me down to the nurse's  
office...oh, it was a mess. But it wasn't anything serious. We went to  
the hospital and I got stitched up, and that was that, really. I just  
have this," she lifted up her bangs and tapped the scar, "to remind me."

She was rolling the apron up in her arms when she heard Papa say,  
"That was stupid." The utter contempt in his voice shocked her; it was  
like he'd dumped a bucket of cold water on her without warning. She  
looked up to see him glaring at her, not with the usual disdain, but  
utter hostility.

"I...guess," she replied quietly, shrugging.

"You should _know_ that it was stupid. I can't believe you're fifteen  
and still have that sort of attitude," Papa snapped. His knuckles were  
gripping the plates so hard that Moira thought they'd break.

"B-but...I..." She was at a loss at what to say, first because she  
hadn't thought Papa would have reacted like this, and second, the way  
his eyes were boring into hers was really unnerving. Somehow, he was  
taking this badly, and she couldn't figure out the how or why of it.

"No. There is no way that what you did would have worked, and you  
should have known that. You should have never attempted it." The word  
"never" was spat out the way Ron yelled "Fuck!" after he did bad on tests.

"I was only seven, all right? Cut me some slack here." Moira felt her  
hands ball up into fists underneath the tan fabric of the apron.

"So what? If you're so smart, you should have known better. And here  
you are, much later, and you still act like it wasn't a big deal. You  
really don't understand anything." With that, Papa snorted and moved  
past her to set the table.

Moira stood there for a few minutes, so angry that she was rooted to  
the floor. Right now her blood felt icy inside her veins and arteries,  
and she felt white-hot sparks behind her eyes.

Fine, she thought, taking the apron and putting it away in the  
drawer, if that's what Papa thought of her, then it was _on_ now. If  
she got her love for him thrown in her face, she'd just take it  
somewhere else.

In fact, as soon as this pain in her chest went away, she'd figure  
something out.

Duo nodded approvingly as Moira drove the car onto the highway. Today  
she'd been doing unusually well. Every turn around corners had been  
smooth, every lane change seamless, and there hadn't been any  
screeching of brakes every time there was a stop sign. No jerking of  
the wheel, sudden stops, or stomping erratically on the gas pedal like  
she normally did. In fact, if he didn't know any better, he'd think  
she'd been driving for years.

"Good, good. Now see how fast you're driving? You can go a little  
faster, but not that much," he said. It was a good night for driving;  
though it was dark, there weren't too many cars out at this time.  
Besides, in order to get her driver's permit, Moira needed to have at  
least ten hours of night driving under her belt. "You're doing real  
good today, Moira. Keep it up."

"Thanks," was the quiet reply. She was probably too busy  
concentrating on the road. Understandable, since she was still new at  
this. She'd just started taking driver's ed classes right after they'd  
gotten back from the science convention. She wouldn't be able to get  
her permit until February, and then she'd have to take another class  
to get the Level 2 permit. That one she'd keep until she turned eighteen.

"Okay, after we pass Exit 24, I want you to make a lane change," Duo  
said. Exit 24 was Arbana Road, in the next city over. Duo figured that  
getting Moira used to the highway first was a good idea; she'd been  
scared of it when they'd started out. "Remember," he said, holding out  
the fingers of one hand as he counted, "turn on the signal, check your  
blind spots, and then move in."

Moira nodded, glancing up at the rearview mirror, then turning on the  
left turn signal with a sharp flick of her wrist. She looked over her  
shoulder to make sure there wasn't any oncoming traffic, and then  
drove into the lane, canceling the signal with another fluid motion.

"See, that wasn't so bad," Duo said. He leaned back into his seat;  
maybe they could stop by the store on the way home, since they needed  
to do some shopping. Right now they were about three quarters of the  
way through with the usual home tutorial, and Moira was still rock  
steady. "We'll stay here for a while, and then we'll switch back and  
go home. I want you to get used to driving in the fast lane."

"Yeah."

Duo raised an eyebrow. "You all right, hon? You're pretty quiet  
today." Normally she'd chat nervously or hum something silly while she  
was driving. Duo had actually caught her singing "Down By The Bay"  
under her breath the last time they were on the highway; he hadn't  
heard that song since she was in third grade.

Moira didn't answer. All she did was watch the road as the car sped  
on. Duo was beginning to get a very bad feeling about this. From  
dinner up till now she'd been dead silent, barely speaking a word  
unless he'd spoken to her first.

"Let's change back into the right lane, sweetie," he said. "Just like  
how you went to the left one."

But when Moira raised a hand to turn on the signal, he noticed that  
it was shaking; not only that, but her entire body was shaking all  
over and it wasn't even cold in the car.

"Autodrive, now!" he barked. Immediately, the car's system took  
over, moving smoothly into the right lane and heading for home.

He didn't know how he couldn't have figured it out earlier, but the  
shaking confirmed it; the reasons that Moira had been so quiet and  
driving so steadily were because she was in a pure, cold rage. The  
shaking was from the adrenaline that had been coursing through her  
system for God knew how long—since dinner, maybe?

"What's going on?" he asked, keeping his voice calm. Yelling at her  
wasn't going to do much at this point, and right now, all he knew was  
that at least she wasn't angry at him, and he wanted it to stay that way.

Moira didn't answer, but just sat there rigidly, arms crossed  
defensively over her chest.

"Moira, I asked you a question. What's going on? If you're that angry  
about something, you shouldn't be out here on the road. So tell me  
what's making you so pissed off," Duo said, voice persistent.

Again, no response. The only sound was that of the car's motor humming.

"You know that driving while upset is dangerous. You _know_ that, and  
yet I can't believe you went ahead and did it anyway. You could have  
gotten us _killed_--"

"I know, okay?" Moira swiveled her head sharply towards Duo. He could  
see the sharp glint of her teeth in the dark. "I know. Enough. I don't  
want to talk about it right now." He heard her softly spitting out a  
strand of hair that had gotten caught in her mouth, and he put a hand  
on her shoulder.

"Honey. I'm not mad—well, okay, I'm a bit upset that you didn't let  
me know that you weren't really in a good condition to drive before we  
left—"

"I wanted to leave," Moira shot back.

Duo ignored her. "But I'm worried, because while I've seen you get  
mad, seeing you angry is a rare thing, and I want to know what's going  
on, because I'm your dad, okay? So spill." He squeezed her shoulder  
encouragingly.

"I don't want to talk about it. I...can't. Just try to understand,  
okay?"

"Are you sure, sweetie? There isn't a lot you can't tell your old  
man." The car pulled into Exit 12, Easterwood Avenue. They'd be home  
in about five minutes. "Okay," Duo said. "Maybe later. I just want you  
to know that you can tell me _anything_."

"Sure thing, Dad," Moira said, skepticism coloring her voice. "Sure  
thing."

Heero glanced at the clock for the third time since he'd sat down to  
read. It read a quarter to eleven, and Moira still wasn't home yet.  
It'd been like that for a week; Duo would say that she'd left another  
message on his cell telling them not to wait up for her to eat because  
she was studying.

And then when Moira finally came home, she'd go up to her room  
without saying a word to anyone. In fact, now that Heero thought about  
it, he hadn't seen her around much since that story about how she got  
her scar.

At first, when Duo had come home that same night and told Heero how  
he'd been in a car totally unaware that she'd been in what he'd  
considered a furious rage, Heero hadn't been too fazed. She still  
should have known better than to do something that foolish. For a few  
days, he didn't worry; she didn't seem all that upset.

But two nights ago, he'd made eye contact with her. It was only for a  
few seconds, but that was enough time to see her irises lighten to  
slate gray and her lips tighten into a thin line before she lifted her  
chin and turned away with a swish of her ponytail. The expression on  
her face was unnerving; it was as if acknowledging Heero's presence,  
even for a short amount of time, disgusted her.

That was when Heero realized that he may have gone too far with his  
reaction to Moira's story. He hadn't told Duo about it because at  
first, he hadn't thought it was a problem. Now that it was obvious  
that yes, it was a problem, he didn't want to let Duo know that he  
was the source of Moira's anger. They were already divided enough as is.

He heard the back door open and shut; Moira had come back. Tonight,  
though, she didn't walk briskly upstairs to her room. There was a soft  
thump as her bag hit the floor, the closet door opening, and then the  
sounds of her coat being hung up before she went back inside.

What the hell could she be doing in there so late? Heero closed the  
science journal he'd been reading, rose from his chair, and walked out  
of the living room to see. The door was slightly ajar, so he pushed it  
further open to see Moira bent over the washing machine, tossing in  
clothes one after the other.

Terrific. He'd forgotten to do laundry today.

She'd sensed his presence; even though she was visibly trying to look  
single-mindedly focused on balancing the load in the machine, Heero  
could already see her body tensing up, much like that time at the  
science convention. Despite the inner voice telling him to stay back  
and leave her be, he moved forward quietly until he was standing only  
a few inches away from her.

"You don't need to do that," he said. Moira looked up at him, her  
eyes paling once again, this time to a dirty grayish white, and her  
mouth drawing itself in.

"It needs to get done," she said firmly, before closing the lid on  
the machine and setting it to "Quick Wash and Dry". Fifteen minutes to  
wash, five to dry. As the machine started whirring, she picked up her  
bag and pulled out one of her e-books, followed by her laptop.

"You've been coming home late recently. Why?" he asked, going further  
away and leaning against the wall. This way, he was able to fight the  
urge to leave the room. He needed to find some way to defuse her  
before things got worse.

"I need to study." The words were quiet, cut off and abrupt, much  
like his own speech pattern. Heero wasn't used to that at all; most of  
the time, she took after Duo in his more relaxed use of language. She  
was trying her best not to pay attention to him, favoring the laptop's  
screen or the e-book's pages instead.

"Is it because your grades are falling?" he persisted. That got to  
her; she visibly flinched before looking disdainfully over her  
shoulder to glare at him.

"No," she snapped, before turning back to the problem set Heero saw  
on the laptop's screen. She was only on the first one.

"Are you sure? How come your homework isn't done yet?" he asked,  
slightly incredulous. "You can't do that and expect to keep your  
grades up."

Moira froze, one of her hands poised in mid-air for typing in some  
answers. He heard her inhale sharply, and then the hand in mid-air  
snapped outward and slammed the laptop shut. It was followed by the  
e-book, its cover closing with a loud snap before both items were  
shoved into her bag.

"You really _do_ think I'm stupid," she muttered before shouldering  
her bag and storming out.

The clunk on the countertop broke Moira's concentration from the  
digital camera. She looked up and saw Nana Relena leaning over the  
counter with a mug of hot chocolate.

"Drink up while it's still hot," the old woman said. "It's freezing  
out there! How can you stand in my garden for so long?"

Moira didn't say anything, but simply turned the camera so that the  
display screen was towards Nana, who gasped and then took it for a  
closer look, putting on her glasses as she did so.

"That's lovely. I didn't know you could get pictures like that with  
only frost on the ground," she said, handing the camera back to Moira,  
who grinned.

"The branches on some of your trees and bushes gave me an idea, and  
if you can get the lighting just right, it looks real nice, don't you  
think?" Moira took a sip from the offered mug, sighing contentedly.  
Nana's hot chocolate was unbeatable; not too sweet, but smooth and  
thick, and the taste lingered long after the last swallow.

"Yes, it does," Nana said, smoothing out the wrinkles in her coral  
sweater. "Oh, look at the time. Shouldn't you think about going back  
home?" Moira's eyes darted towards the clock on Nana's stove; it was  
five to eleven.

Yeah, she'd stalled long enough with stopping over at Nana's house  
after driving classes today. It had been her last day of classes, so  
until finals started next week, she had nothing to do. There was  
studying, but the last day of class called for celebration before  
anything like that took place. For Sabrina, Heather, Ron, and Audrey,  
that meant partying. As for Ethan, he'd sequestered himself off and  
was literally nowhere to be found outside classes or Dina's.

Since being three years younger than everyone else put her at a  
disadvantage for parties, Moira was out. So she went to Nana Relena's  
to take pictures. It was lonely as hell, but she wasn't itching to go  
home right away.

"You'd better finish that; hot chocolate is awful when it gets cold,"  
Nana gently prodded. Moira started, and then saw that the brown liquid  
in her mug was showing signs of gumminess. A few quick stirs and it  
was drinkable again.

"Good girl," Nana murmured. "Hurry home now, it's late."

Moira sighed, sliding off the stool in front of the counter and going  
over to the old woman, gently wrapping both arms around her fragile  
shoulders. "Thanks for letting me stay here, Nana. I really appreciate  
it. Good study break before finals, you know? Really helped me unwind  
and all, needed to relax, cause boy, I was ready to snap and..."

"While I appreciate your gratitude, you need to return sometime."  
Nana's voice, while carrying her trademark warmth, brooked no  
argument, and it was emphasized by the usual all-knowing light in her  
teal blue eyes. Moira slumped in defeat; she wouldn't be able to crash  
at Nana's either until she figured something out.

"Yes, Nana," Moira groaned, and she left the kitchen, camera in hand,  
to get her coat.

It got even better. As soon as she'd parked her scooter in the  
garage, Moira was confronted by Dad, who was just outside the door, in  
a T-shirt and baggy, worn pajama bottoms.

"Moira Haley Maxwell," he began, flicking on the garage light, "you  
and I need to have a little talk."

Moira winced. It was bad when Dad used her full name.

"I don't know what's going on here, but it has been at least two  
weeks and you have been coming home late. Now, while I understand  
college has been a hard adjustment for you, I find it extremely odd  
that your study habits would have changed dramatically just before the  
end of the term." His voice had deepened an octave, like it always did  
when he was ticked off, and there was no humor in those eyes of his;  
in fact, they'd gone blue-black, another bad sign. His hair, now freed  
from its usual ponytail, spilled down his back in a red-brown mass.

At the very least, Dad was cranky. At the most, well, Moira didn't  
want to know.

"Dad, finals are—"

He cut her off with a slash of his hand. "That's bullshit and you  
know it. You're really pissed off, and from what I can tell, it's  
because of something at home. Now, I know it's not me, because if that  
was the case, we'd have it settled from the start."

Moira smirked, but there was no real joy in it. "Congratulations, you  
figured it out. Was there any help?"

Dad's eyes widened angrily. "Don't sass me, young lady. You have  
caused a lot of grief in this house with your evasion tactics. Now,  
you've got two choices. You can either tell me what's going on with  
Papa so we can work it out," he separated off an invisible section of  
air with his hands, "or", separating off another section, "you can  
suck it up while I impose an eight o'clock curfew for the rest of the  
school year. So what's it gonna be?"

There was a long, tense silence in the garage as Moira locked eyes  
with Dad, considering the ultimatum. Finally, she pulled off her hat  
and pushed back the bangs on her left side, exposing the scar.

"Remember how I got this?" she asked. When Dad nodded, eyes stern and  
piercing, she continued.

"I told Papa because he asked and he got on my case. Said I was was  
stupid for what I did, that my attitude sucked because I still thought  
it was cool. Because I wanted it as a reminder."

"He was shocked," Dad began, but Moira overrode him, her voice  
rising, but still cool and controlled.

"So were you. But you didn't throw it in my face the way Papa did. I  
told him why I did it, that it was to see him, and he didn't give a  
shit. He hasn't given a shit about me for the past six months he's  
been here." She stood to her full height, dropped her hand, and looked  
Dad square in the eye this time and not at the faded logo on his black  
T-shirt.

"I've been trying ever since he woke up. That's been hard because he  
spends more time with you, but believe me, I've been trying. If he  
doesn't want me in his life, there's no reason for me to make him a  
part of mine."

The two of them stood there; Dad stunned and Moira exhaling loudly.  
She'd been wanting to say that for a while. Just when Dad was about to  
reply, Moira shook her head.

"Dad, I'm sorry, but that's how it is." She stepped past Dad, opening  
the door with the touch-activated lock. "Next week is finals. I'll be  
home late until Thursday." With that, she shoved both hands into her  
coat pockets and strode into the house.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Duo asked the next day. He groaned, taking  
his head in his hands. "If I'd known what was going on..."

"That would have made it worse," Heero said. "I thought I could  
handle it eventually. If I'd told you, it'd probably wind up driving a  
wedge in between you and her, and that's not what I want."

They were sitting at the dining table, each man with a mug of coffee  
in front of him after the dishes had been cleared away from dinner.  
Again, Moira was out, claiming that she'd be in the library studying,  
mentioning since she was going to stop by the grocery before she came  
home, since they were out of milk.

Duo groaned again, shaking his head and making his ponytail sway  
gently from side to side. "I wouldn't take _sides_, Heero. The last  
thing I need here is you two being estranged from each other." He  
drained his mug, grimacing.

"She thinks you hate her, you know," Duo said with a matter-of-fact  
expression.

"I don't. But what she did was reckless. She could have _died_." Heero  
wanted to take Duo by the shoulders and shake him right now; why  
wasn't he also angry about this? Their daughter could have suffered  
irreversible brain trauma, maybe even bled to death (though,  
admittedly, that wasn't too likely), and here Duo was, sitting in  
front of him and acting blasé over the whole thing.

Duo nodded sagely. "Yeah, I know. Believe me, I told her what could  
have happened in loving detail after all was said and done. But," he  
said, holding up one finger, "I did tell her that it was very sweet  
nonetheless and gave her a hug for her trouble, partially because of  
that, and partially because I was glad her brains weren't all over the  
window."

He pushed the mug away from him, a far-off look in his eyes.

"Thing is, Heero, no matter what Moira did—and she's done a lot—I love  
her tons. And I make sure she knows that. She doesn't know that you  
were scared for her; all she sees is someone who thinks she's some dumb  
kid who doesn't know what she's doing."

"What do I do?" Heero asked. Duo inhaled deeply, closing his eyes, and  
exhaled.

"Tell her you were scared," he replied. When Heero didn't nod in  
understanding, Duo shrugged. "I can't tell you how to do the rest;  
that you'll need to figure out on your own. But get it done before  
next Thursday, all right? That's when she finishes with exams." He got  
up from his chair and moved to peer out the window, where frost  
crystals were already gathering on its smooth pane. "Whew, it looks  
cold out. I hope Moira bundled up today, otherwise, she's going to  
need something to thaw her out when she comes back."

Heero made an affirmative noise, an idea already forming. Whether or  
not it'd work he didn't know, but it was better than nothing.


	7. Chapter 7

True North  
Chapter 7  
Pairing: 2x1  
Category: AU  
Warnings: OC kid  
Gundam Wing is copyright Bandai, Sunrise, and Sotsu Agency. "Eien no  
Rhapsody" is copyright Midori Saiha/Ringo Zaidan.

Thanks to Diamroyal for beta-reading!

"I will give my child a compass.  
I will say,  
do not trust its needle.  
It's only a small promise  
by which to remember me."

--Tonio, "Words Poured Trippingly" from Savoradin.

The exam was tomorrow, and tonight Moira had done all the studying  
that could be possibly done. It wasn't something that was too hard,  
but who knew?

College, she'd learned, was always full of surprises.

Now it was ten-thirty, and while Blair's campus was still pretty  
active, what with people still studying, hanging out at the nearby  
cafes or bars, once Moira rode her scooter into her neighborhood, it  
was blissfully silent, with the roads, houses and bare trees covered  
in a soft dusting of snow. It made her want to get off her scooter and  
stand there for a few minutes, pretending the world had stopped and it  
was just her and the scooter, with no exams she had to take and with  
Papa actually _liking_ her instead of...well, probably not wanting her  
around to deal with.

But she had to go home, because she still needed to sleep, and there  
was no space in Sabrina and Heather's dorm room for an extra person,  
and Audrey...well, Audrey was busy with Ron, so no luck there. Nana  
would be in bed by now. And if Dad found out, Moira would be in deep  
trouble. He really wasn't too happy with her missing meals at home  
just to avoid being around Papa as much as she could.

The garage was empty when she arrived, even though there was a light  
on in the house. That was strange, usually Dad wasn't working  
late...but maybe she could get her coat off and run upstairs, get a  
shower and go online for an hour or two before bed. All without having  
to see Papa for very long, at least.

That sounded good, especially the shower part. Moira needed to relax;  
Ethan and Steve meant it when they said they were going to study. She  
parked the scooter in its usual place on the right side of the garage,  
next to the shelves, and opened the door a crack to peek through.

"Fuck, not good," she whispered to herself. Papa was sitting in the  
dining room reading an e-book, facing the door, so of course he'd see  
her as soon as she walked in. She'd just have to do everything at  
light speed.

Well, she decided, one thing she could do was take off her hat and  
scarf before she went in. Then she'd have only her coat to rip off  
and hang in the closet. She took her hat off, stuffing it into her  
bag, and then began to unknot her scarf. It was taking some time;  
knots were hard to untie in the dark, and she was wearing gloves. Even  
worse. She didn't know what she'd done to make this one so hard, but  
it wasn't coming undone. Finally, she grabbed the ends and started to  
pull her head through it, like a necktie that was too loose.

The door flew wide open just as she'd pulled it halfway over her  
face, making it look like she was trying to hang herself.

"What are you trying to do?" she heard Papa ask.

"Getting my scarf off," Moira replied, but it only came out as a long  
"Mmmmnnnnfff." Yanking wasn't really doing anything to help, either.  
Now she couldn't see, thanks to the damn thing covering her face. Such  
a shame, the day had been going all right until this had happened. She  
let out an irritated growl, giving the scarf a final tug. It slid off,  
the knot still in place.

"Hurry up and come inside," Papa said. "I made tea." Then he turned  
and went into the kitchen, leaving a dumbfounded Moira holding her  
scarf in her hands.

She'd gotten thin. Well, more thin. Now that Heero was less than a  
foot away from her, he noticed that she'd lost weight. The black  
hooded sweatshirt jacket she wore kept slipping off one or the other  
shoulder, and her cheeks were beginning to look sunken, highlighting  
the bruised skin under her eyes. The hands cradling the teacup seemed  
more fragile than the porcelain, and the bones jutted out  
uncomfortably from her wrists.

"Have you been eating?" he asked. Moira nodded, blowing the steam off  
the teacup with dry lips.

"How much?"

"A bagel," she said, lifting the teacup and sipping delicately.  
Noticing Heero's frown, she added, "Soup, too. And coffee."

"That's it?" Another nod. She set the teacup down on the table and  
pulled her jacket around her shoulders again for the seventh time  
since she'd sat down. Heero had mistaken the jacket as one of Duo's  
castoffs at first because it had been so loose.

Moira didn't bother to explain herself further, but just sat there,  
drinking her tea. Heero wondered if this was how the rest of the night  
would go, and if he'd even be able to really get down to business.  
He'd have to if he wanted to smooth things over, but Moira didn't look  
like she wanted to make his job any easier. She'd been avoiding eye  
contact with him ever since she'd walked in the house.

Sadly, that was an improvement from a few weeks ago, when she'd tried  
her best to stay as far away from him as she could. If Duo hadn't  
talked to her last week, Moira would be trying to stay at Relena's if  
she could, Heero thought.

He noticed Moira pursing her lips after taking another sip of tea.  
"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, staring vacantly down at the light green cup.

"Are you sick?" he asked. Even though it was around the time that  
Blair was having final exams, Moira looked unusually listless, her  
eyes a dull, cloudy blue from under her thick bangs. She hadn't looked  
this bad when it was time for midterms. But then again, they hadn't  
gotten into a fight either. The last time Heero had looked that bad  
was when he'd been ill himself.

Moira shook her head.

"Let's see if you have a fever."

"I'm _fine_," Moira muttered. Heero ignored her and placed his hand  
on her forehead. She didn't feel any warmer than he was; maybe a  
little colder, but that was all. His fingertips came across something  
odd on her temple, where her scar was. It felt different; the scar was  
a thin raised line, and what Heero felt was smooth, plastic.

"Hey! Hey!" Moira tried to move backwards, but he put a hand on her  
shoulder to keep her in place until he lifted her bangs, revealing a  
square bandage that took up half her forehead. He stood there for a  
few moments, staring at it until Moira wrenched her head back and  
hastily pulled the dark wisps of hair back down.

"What is that?" he asked.

"It's a bandage," was the short reply.

"Are you hurt?"

"No," she answered, beginning to sound peeved. She put a hand to her  
forehead, pressing the bandage harder against her skull. Heero  
remembered a news report he'd seen on TV recently about a drug that  
was being circulated around college students to keep their  
concentration up. The most popular form of it had been a patch; it was  
more convenient than pills and easier to conceal from anyone who got  
too inquisitive. It would explain the sudden weight loss and fatigued  
appearance.

"Is that a stimulant patch?" He winced inwardly at how the words came  
out: rough, abrupt, and accusatory.

"No," Moira snapped icily, offended.

"You're not leaving until you tell me why it's there."

She glowered at him. "It's to cover up the scar," she said, her words  
a blast of cold air. A long silence passed between them.

"...Why?" Heero finally asked.

"Because you called me stupid." Moira's voice was cold, every word  
enunciated with painful clarity. "You said that I should have known  
better and that I had an attitude problem after I told you how I got  
_this_," jabbing a finger at the now-concealed scar, "and after that,  
I gave up. Obviously, _you_," she pointed roughly at Heero's chest,  
"don't care that _I_ care about you. So I'm making the scar go away."

She got up to leave, hoisting her bag over one emaciated shoulder,  
but before she reached the hallway, Heero asked almost inaudibly, "Do  
you really hate me that much?"

That got her to stop and turn around. This time her eyes were  
unusually bright, brimming over with unshed tears. She looked defeated  
and weary, and shockingly broken-hearted.

"I should be asking you that," she said in a hurt, sorrowful voice,  
before she turned back and headed toward the stairs.

Moira felt tired. So very tired, in fact, that she didn't even make  
it to her room, but instead wound up collapsing at the top of the stairs.

She felt tears slowly running down her face as she leaned against the  
wall. The cold plaster felt good against her cheek and forehead, but  
it did nothing to dull the hopelessness that had been dredged up again  
by what had just happened.

Papa thought the worst of her, and this only proved it. As if it  
wasn't bad enough already that he'd gotten on her back about something  
that she'd done as a kid, something that she'd done because she just  
wanted to _see_ him. No, he assumed that she was on drugs, or, upon  
later clarification on why the bandage was there, immediately assumed  
that she hated _him_. While Dad hadn't been all sweetness and light  
about how she got the scar either, at least he understood why she'd  
done it in the first place.

The worst was that, of course, she'd already given up on Papa. She  
felt horrible about it; normally it was forever before she gave up on  
anything. But it had been six months already, and she hadn't seen  
any progress, except for Papa finding more fault with her the more  
they were around each other.

Where did it all go wrong? Before he'd been revived from coldsleep,  
Moira had been happy. On-top-of-the-world happy. Her life had been out  
there, in front of her, with so many things to look forward to, like  
college, more friends, and getting to work at one of the best physics  
labs in all of Earth and the colonies. She'd always imagined Papa's  
arrival as something that would add to it, something that would have  
made her family even better.

But she wasn't happy, because Papa just didn't seem to like her,  
despite the fact that Dad and Nana had told her the opposite all the  
time. And college was proving to be a bigger challenge than she'd  
thought, without Amy and Gwen around. Oh, there was Audrey, but first  
Moira would have to pry her off her boyfriend with a crowbar. Never  
mind her love life didn't look all that great anyway; she might  
as well have tattooed "jailbait" on her forehead.

Seriously, if she and Papa actually got along, if she wasn't so  
scared of going home every night now, all that college stuff wouldn't  
be so bad. But they didn't get along, and it bothered the hell out of  
her, so much that she dreaded waking up every morning and remembering  
the situation over and over.

For the first time in her life, Moira hadn't a clue about how to make  
this better, or how to make it go away. She could keep coming home  
late for now, but there was summer vacation, and there wasn't any way  
Nana would let her move permanently into her house without Dad hearing  
about it.

"I can't do this anymore. I really can't." Moira held her face in her  
hands and wept. She'd be damned if Papa saw her crying; after all, she  
was a firm believer of the edict, "don't let them know they broke you."

The tears were coming faster and faster down her face, and there  
wasn't anything she could do to stop them, nor the sobs forcing their  
way out of her throat. Thankfully, they sounded quiet; if anyone heard  
her, she'd have to run to her room, and she didn't have the energy for  
that right now.

She heard the gentle creak of the floorboards, and then Papa's voice  
before she could scoot away.

"When I woke up," he said, "everything was different. I didn't know  
what to do, because Duo was the only one that still looked like  
himself. Relena turned out to be an old woman, and you're only two or  
three years younger than me, physically. It was hard to get used to."

Feeling a tug on one of her braids, she peered through her hands and  
saw that he'd taken it and was worrying the end with his fingers,  
stroking the loose strands with his thumb.

"I was scared," he continued. "I didn't want to admit it to myself,  
but I was scared. I never knew coming back from the dead was going to  
be difficult." He seemed to be looking at something not there; his  
eyes had a faraway look to them while he worried her braid. "But it  
is...there's sixty-five years of history to learn, sixty-five years of  
new developments, sixty-five years of things I slept through. It's a  
lot to absorb."

Papa undid the hair tie, slowly undoing her braid. "It's messy. I'll  
redo it for you," he explained, seeing Moira's raised eyebrow.

"Thanks."

"Then there's you. The last time I saw you, you were only six months  
old. You're not a baby anymore; you've become a person, and I don't  
know how to deal with that. I missed seeing you grow up." He combed  
out her hair, weaving his fingers into the dark brown strands.

"About the scar..."

"I'm making it go away," she blurted. "I'll cover it up for now, and  
the bandage will help make it disappear some, but I'll get surgery or—"

"I don't want that," Papa said firmly. "I didn't react very well when  
you told me how you got it, and I'm sorry. But I was terrified."

"Why?" she asked, wiping her eyes. They were sticky and gritty; now  
she had to shower for sure or they'd be swollen tomorrow. And they  
hurt.

"You could have died. You know that already. And I'd never be able to  
see you if that happened..." He started braiding her hair. "That's  
what scared me, knowing that I could have woken up and never met you.  
I didn't want that."

Moira didn't look at Papa's face, but instead concentrated on his  
sweater: a light grayish blue ribbed turtleneck. A frivolous thought  
entered her head in the middle of all this; he was being very gentle  
with her hair right now. When her classmates tried to do it, they'd  
either pull or hit some tangles, and they'd had a brush.

"I've been distant. That's because I was trying to see what you were  
like; what was from Duo and what was from me. I didn't know what else  
to do."

"So you don't hate me?" Moira asked, sniffling. Papa stopped braiding  
her hair and reached over, tilting her face upwards with one hand.

"I _never_ hated you," he said, his voice so soft that she almost  
thought it was in her head. But she'd seen him say it, seen the  
conviction in those eyes the same dark blue as her own. For a while,  
all she could do was sit there, pinned by his gaze before finally  
sagging in relief and saying, "Okay. Okay," over and over again.

"You should rest," Papa said, releasing her to tie her braid.

She let out a high-pitched giggle. "Yeah. I should." Sleeping here on  
the stairs didn't seem like a bad idea, really. Then she could wake up  
and head downstairs to go off and take her exam. But before she could  
suggest that, Papa had wrapped an arm around her shoulders and now was  
pulling her away from the wall.

"Come on. Can you make it to your room?" He slowly lifted her to her  
feet, letting her head rest in the crook of his neck. She felt a  
little lightheaded, so she wound up swaying side to side, trying to  
adjust.

"Moira?" Papa grabbed her elbow to steady her. He smelled nice, a  
warm soapy scent that made her want to curl up and fall asleep right  
there.

"I'm fine," she said, releasing herself and shouldering her bag.  
"I'll be heading in now. Good night."

It was one in the morning and Heero was still lying wide awake in  
bed, spooned in Duo's arms. Duo had been snoring peacefully for an  
hour and a half. Heero, on the other hand, had been staring out the  
window and watching the snow fall silently on the roof and the trees  
outside. Given what had happened tonight, he thought he'd be asleep  
already, but he was still awake and sleep wasn't coming any faster to  
him.

He carefully disentangled himself from Duo's arms and climbed out of  
the bed, making sure to rearrange the blankets around Duo as he did  
so. He allowed himself a smirk; Duo hadn't stirred at all.

Heero threw a robe on over his pajamas and padded quietly down the  
hall until he reached Moira's bedroom. The door was halfway open, so  
he gingerly pushed it further and slipped inside.

He'd never been in her room before. The door was usually kept closed,  
with that Kill Bill poster plastered on the outside. He wasn't too  
inclined to enter a room that had a picture of a sword going through a  
piece of paper.

The first thing he noticed were tiny glow-in-the-dark stars arranged  
all over the ceiling. There had to be at least two hundred of them  
dimly glowing above him. Moira probably had used a chart; the  
constellations didn't look like they'd been slapped on without any  
thought. He moved forwards, spotting the Big Dipper near one corner...

...and then banged his knuckles against cold metal. He hissed in pain  
involuntarily, feeling along the edges until he came to a corner. Now  
that Heero was further inside, the light from the windows revealed  
that what'd he run into was a desk, one made entirely of stainless  
steel. Next to it, he saw Moira fast asleep on her bed.

Heero moved carefully towards the bed, using the edges of the desk  
for a guide. As he came closer he saw that while she'd managed to get  
into her T-shirt and pajama bottoms, she'd fallen onto her bed and  
gone unconscious soon after that. The star-studded quilt she had  
barely covered her torso and the lower half of one arm, and her loose  
hair was everywhere, some spread over the pillow, and a few strands  
over her face. The striped fabric of her pajama bottoms rode up around  
her skinny calves.

The scar was in plain sight, a pale silvery line on her left temple.  
She'd removed the bandage. Relief washed over him like water in a dry  
riverbed as he sat down on the mattress; even though he didn't have  
much in social skills, he'd managed to prevent any more animosity  
between the two of them. The image of Moira's relieved expression was  
still fresh in his mind, and seeing the scar again told Heero that she  
meant it.

That was probably why he couldn't sleep; he was so happy that his  
daughter hadn't hated him after all. He felt much lighter knowing  
that, and the tension had lifted dramatically as a result. Of course,  
he'd need to start to actually interact with her and stop watching  
her from afar. Heero still didn't know what to do with her, but now he  
knew that she wasn't going to outright reject him for trying.

Carefully, so that he didn't wake her, Heero drew the quilt around  
Moira's shoulders, brushing the strands of hair off her face. The girl  
didn't stir whatsoever; her chest kept rising and falling with each  
deep breath. She smelled of flowers and herbs, clean and sharp. He  
remembered seeing the purple shampoo bottle in the shower, that had to  
be hers.

He lightly outlined her face with his fingertips, noting how her chin  
wasn't as sharp as his own despite the recent weight loss. Her  
cheekbones were still a little too uncomfortably prominent, but they'd  
probably be back to normal once she was eating normally again; he'd  
personally see that it came to pass. The eyebrows were thinner than  
his, tapering off at the ends like the tips of a calligraphy brush.  
Her bangs fell over her face the way his did.

She really did take after him.

Heero didn't know how long he sat there tracing her features; it  
could have been minutes or hours. She was warm under his fingers, much  
more so than she'd been when they had that talk. He liked that; the  
warmth confirmed so many things. It confirmed that she was here, that  
she was real, that she was alive.

Touch seldom lied to anybody. Heero had relied on it a great deal  
since he'd been revived. Before, he'd never go out of his way to touch  
anyone. Now he'd reach out to tug on Duo's sleeve to get his attention  
or grasp his hand whenever they were sitting next to each other on the  
couch. To touch was to know, and knowing that Duo was there told him  
that every moment that he spent awake wasn't a dream. It meant that he  
was here and alive also. Anything he came into contact with was a very  
effective reminder.

Moira stirred in her sleep, twisting her hips underneath the quilt.  
Heero took that as a sign to leave. Smoothing aside her bangs, he  
leaned down and tenderly kissed her scar before getting to his feet.  
Then he left the room and shut the door behind him, heading for bed  
and Duo's waiting arms.


	8. Chapter 8

True North  
Chapter 8  
Entire story archived at under Miyabi  
Feedback: Yes!  
Pairing: 2x1  
Category: AU  
Warnings: OC kid  
Gundam Wing copyright Bandai, Sunrise, and Sotsu Agency. "Eien no  
Rhapsody" copyright Midori Saiha/Ringo Zaidan.

Thanks to Diamroyal for beta reading!

"Let me tell you about people my age. The worst thing is others  
assume you have developed your character by now." –Michael Ondaatje,  
_The English Patient_

"The recently dead are always exhausted. There's so much to absorb,  
so many things that need to be undone. They have their whole lives in  
front of them." –Kelly Link, "Lull".

Duo didn't know that Spanish wine could taste so good. He was  
normally a beer guy when it came to alcohol; he drank Blue Wolf (the  
top choice for college keg parties) most of the time, and when it was  
a really good occasion, a bottle of Guinness did the trick.

But this bottle that Relena had sent home with him was really  
something. It was an AC 256 Rioja Reserva, according to its label.  
They'd only gotten home about an hour and a half ago from celebrating  
the new year at Relena's, and this was Duo's third or fourth glass. He  
wasn't sure. All he knew was that the Rioja Reserva was a damn good  
wine; not too sweet, but pleasantly spicy and easy to sip, and this  
was something that had to last as long as possible.

If someone could put fall in a bottle, Duo thought, it'd taste just  
like this.

"Hey, come on. Sit down." He beckoned to Heero, who was sliding books  
in and out of the shelf across from the couch, where Duo was currently  
sitting. When all Duo got was a baleful glance, he grinned and patted  
the cushion invitingly.

"If you come here, I'll let you try some of this," he tempted, waving  
the glass, sloshing the wine around so much that the deep red liquid  
threatened to spill over.

Heero's eyebrows drew together as he frowned disapprovingly. "Go easy  
on that," he grumbled, turning back to the shelf to pull out a few  
books. "That's your fourth glass already, and I'm not nursing you  
through a hangover in the morning."

Duo grinned. "You're just mad because you caught our kid trying to  
drink."

"Yeah, well, if I hadn't, who knows what would happen? I wasn't  
planning on spending tonight holding her head over the toilet." Heero  
went over to the couch, setting what he'd pulled out on the coffee  
table before sitting down himself. Duo noticed that those weren't  
books, but photo albums. He remembered taking them out to show Heero  
after they'd gotten back from the hospital, but there'd also been the  
same photos on disks or memory sticks, and the albums had been put  
back onto the shelves the next day.

Duo opened his mouth to ask something starting with the word "why"  
when Heero said, "It's been a while since I looked at the pictures you  
gave me, and I don't feel like firing up the laptop."

"You sure you don't want any of this?" Duo held out the glass. "It's  
really good; never though Relena would be a wine aficionado."

"I'm too young to drink."

Duo blinked for a few seconds. "Oh," he said, "you're right..." He  
felt old all of a sudden. In November, he'd celebrated his  
thirty-first birthday, and while that really wasn't so old, realizing  
that Heero was lagging behind him by thirteen years made him feel  
ancient.

"God," Duo said, "now that I think about it, it's been ten years  
since I started drinking. Holy shit." He chuckled, taking another sip  
before setting the wineglass down. "Here, let me show you."

Duo reached for the top album in the stack and opened it up, flipping  
until he got about three-quarters of the way through. "Ta-da," he  
sang, pointing at one of the snapshots on that page.

It was of himself at age twenty-one; he was sitting by himself at a  
bar, knocking back with one hand and giving a thumbs-up with the  
other. He'd turned to the side, giving the viewer a full view of the  
short ponytail that barely came down to his shoulders.

"I got hammered. Luckily, my birthday was on a weekend, and Relena  
was able to watch Moira while I dealt with the hangover." He snorted  
affectionately at Heero's disgusted expression. "Hey, don't look at me  
like that, it was only once. When you've got to keep up with a  
five-year-old, there's no way you're getting wasted that much."

He turned the page, which had a snapshot of Moira in front of a  
snowman she'd just built. She was nearly swallowed up by the huge pink  
and purple coat and blue snowpants she wore; all that was visible of  
her was her eyes and a few strands of dark hair poking out from her hood.

Another one of Moira. This time she was with Duo, a grim expression  
on her face as he hoisted her upwards. That was for two reasons; one,  
someone had mistaken her for a boy thanks to her short hair, and two,  
she'd just lost a tooth that day and didn't want to show the resulting  
gap.

"Y'know, she looks exactly like you in that," Duo said, tapping a  
corner of the picture with his ring finger. "I saw that look on your  
face so many times before we got together, like your default setting  
was irritated', and the only other option was pissed off.' I'd say  
you had something up your ass," here, he smirked at Heero, "but I  
found out for myself later, didn't I?"

Heero didn't answer, but instead glared at Duo and whacked him upside  
the head. Duo was unfazed by the gesture. Instead, he cracked his neck  
a few times before eyeing Heero again.

"I think I like you better with something up your ass, from what I  
know now," he said.

This time, Heero landed a solid punch on his shoulder.

"Owwww. Jesus Christ, you've got one hell of a punch. I didn't know  
your knuckles were that bony," Duo moaned. He was doubled over,  
clutching his shoulder where he'd been punched.

"Your fault." Heero took the album out from Duo's lap and placed it  
on the coffee table.

"See, this is what I'm talking about. You're so cranky. I can't  
remember how many times you've whapped me upside the head. Now you're  
going to punches. Man," Duo's fingers dug into his shoulder as he  
tried to massage himself.

Heero snorted. "I couldn't have been that bad, Duo." He saw Duo  
mock-deliberating what he'd been saying, grasping his chin and tilting  
his head this way and that.

Finally, Duo straightened, saying, "Nope, you _were_ that bad." He  
smiled. "Once you gave me that first parting shot about how I'd rape  
you if I got a chance, I knew it wasn't going to be easy."

"What would you do if your lab assistants kept sexually harassing  
you?" Heero grumbled. Duo only laughed and pulled him over so that his  
head was now resting on the other man's chest.

"Point taken. But everything turned out okay. You're here, so am I,  
and nobody's dying." Duo's voice was muffled, thanks to one of Heero's  
ears being mashed against bone, muscle and skin, topped off with Duo's  
T-shirt.

Heero stayed like that, counting Duo's heartbeats. When he got to  
sixty-two, he looked up at Duo and asked, "Why'd you keep going after  
me?" He knew his social skills weren't the best—to be honest, they  
were downright awful. He hadn't minded; it kept people away so he  
could do his work.

"The disk, I guess...no, it was something more than that. The disk  
only gave me an idea of how things turned out." Duo paused, and Heero  
felt him rubbing his back with long, slow strokes as he was thinking.

"You know," he said, "once they found out I was a prodigy, I got put  
with people a lot older than I was. I wound up in the UL2 when I was,  
what, eight or nine. And then from on, that was it, I was with adults  
all the damn time. That is, until I met you." He pattered his  
fingers over Heero's shoulders, starting at the top and then ending  
underneath the scapulae.

"You were the only one my age. I guess it was the little kid in me  
jumping up and down because there was another little kid to play  
with, so to speak." He shifted on the couch, so that now they were  
both lying down.

"There's something comforting about having someone your own age  
around," he continued.

Then, murmured so low that Heero almost didn't catch it: "I wish we  
were the same age now..."

"It doesn't matter to me," Heero replied. Duo's fingers had stopped  
moving on his back, and his hands lay still on the middle of Heero's  
spine.

"Yeah, well, _I_ care." Duo craned his head upwards, messy strands of  
hair framing his eyes. "I _liked_ that we were sixteen and then  
seventeen together. I wanted to grow up with you." He lay back down  
again, shifting onto his back and letting Heero scoot into a more  
comfortable position before talking again.

"So much lost time. I keep wondering what it'd be like if I'd been  
able to find the cure quicker, like five years back or ten years back,  
or maybe even when I'd just gotten to AC 246. We wouldn't be exactly  
the same age, but we'd be closer. Sometimes the gap feels so wide."  
He held his hands apart for Heero to see; the hair on his arms was a  
reddish-gold in the lamp's warm light.

"Isn't that funny?" Duo laughed, but it wasn't normal; there was a  
note of regret shot throughout that tugged at the heartstrings. "I  
want the past more than the future."

Heero shook his head. "I don't think it would have really mattered.  
That only means we'd be reunited earlier."

"More time to spend together, at least. I...I wanted more memories of  
_us_." Duo sighed, clenching his hand into a fist when he said, "us."  
When Heero merely blinked at him, waiting for an elaboration, Duo  
rolled his eyes.

"I mean, getting drunk together, for example. Going through all the  
rites of passage, maybe even going on a road trip while Relena watched  
the kid for a while. I don't know. More time together. More of us  
doing everyday things, like watching TV or waking up next to each  
other every morning. Even fights; there's always the chance you can  
look back on them and laugh later." Duo closed his eyes and sighed again.

Heero stared at the silkscreened photo on the fabric of Duo's  
T-shirt. He hadn't known Duo felt this way; for a period as long as  
seven months, Duo had managed to hide it pretty well. Still, Heero  
thought, this conversation would have happened sometime sooner or  
later. Fifteen years alone wasn't exactly too pleasant, after all. He  
couldn't imagine being in Duo's place and going through it.

"So you were lonely," he said, his words a little unsure. He didn't  
know whether Duo was getting at that, or if it was something more. Duo  
missing him was a given, hell, the time he'd returned to AC 246 was  
one of the rare occasions Heero saw tears streaming down his face. He  
hadn't thought it was that bad at first, because Duo would eventually  
return, but as the days went by, he felt more and more worse lying  
there on his hospital bed as he waited.

Then one day, Dr. J and Professor G came in and talked about their  
work in cryogenics, followed by their offer to put Heero in a  
coldsleep pod so that his chances of surviving were greater when (and  
if) Duo came through with the cure. He'd taken it, signed the papers  
that very day. Until now, he never knew why he'd made that decision.

"I was lonely too," he murmured into Duo's ear. "I thought I could  
wait for you while I was awake, knowing that you'd come back. I  
couldn't. I missed you too much. Coldsleep sounded better. I could  
wait for you while I was asleep, and then I wouldn't have to miss  
you." Heero slid his arms around Duo's waist, enjoying how the T-shirt  
moved against his skin.

Duo stared at him, eyes wide, taking in what had been said. His mouth  
opened and shut, but finally he lay there, at a loss for words. Heero  
took this as a signal to keep talking.

"But I don't want more memories. I don't need them, not with you." He  
put a hand over Duo's mouth as he was about to ask something. "I've  
got enough being here with you right now. What matters to me is that  
we're together. That's why I didn't care when I got revived, as long  
as you were there."

"I wondered if I'd ever be able to find you again," Duo said.

Heero smiled. "You never had to look in the first place."

"That's how it is with significant others." Duo started to rub  
Heero's back again, slipping his hand underneath Heero's pajama top.  
"You're not supposed to look, you let them come. Course, that doesn't  
mean I still didn't have to work my ass off trying to get through  
those barriers you put up."

Heero didn't reply. Instead, he snorted, nuzzling into the crook that  
Duo's neck and shoulder made. His scent was more intense there;  
coffee, soap, shampoo, and now the wine that he'd been drinking. A  
bittersweet fragrance, but comforting in its presence.

"I didn't mind, though. If you'd just hooked up with me right then  
and there, I'd think there was a catch. At least I knew up-front that  
it was going to be hard, and then when you finally came around," here,  
Duo reached upwards, his fingertips barely brushing the back of  
Heero's neck, "I could relax. There's something satisfying about  
hard-won things; you really feel like you deserve them, because of  
how much you had to do for whatever it was. Of course, it was too bad  
we had to wait until you woke up to get married."

In AC 196, they'd both been too young to apply for a marriage  
license. They'd remedied that in August with a quick trip to the city  
clerk, but other than a small celebration with Moira and Relena, they  
hadn't commemorated that day. For Heero, it was only making things  
official long after the fact.

They lay there like that, content, until Duo spoke up. "You sure  
there aren't any memories you'd have liked to have? Just anything  
during the time you spent asleep?"

"...I don't know." Heero reached out with a finger and began tracing  
along Duo's collarbone, idly wondering if he'd be able to see bone if  
he made the shallowest cut with a scalpel. "I'd have to think about  
that. With you, you'd be the same person no matter when I was revived,  
I think."

Duo arched an eyebrow. "Even though you said I'd grown up?"

Heero nodded solemnly. "You know how a tree grows, right? If you look  
at a cross-section, you'd see a ring for every year the tree had been  
alive. But the core is still the same. That's what it's like with you.  
No matter how old you were when we met again, I'd still be able to  
find the you I saw in AC 196." He reached the end of Duo's shoulder  
and started heading back. "I know you that well, Duo."

It occurred to Heero that he could have been blind and deaf and still  
able to know who Duo was with his remaining senses. There was the  
scent, but it was possible that there were others who smelled just as  
strongly of coffee, though Duo had a faint spicy scent underneath  
everything else that was just him.

No, he'd have to say that one of the most intimate ways he knew Duo  
was through touch. He knew everything from the planes and angles to  
the curves and bumps on Duo's body. As expected, Duo had gotten  
leaner, with less give to his flesh, thanks to the loss of baby fat  
after fifteen years, but it hadn't taken long for Heero to reacquaint  
himself. Some things were still there, like the bones that still stuck  
out at his ankles and wrists in little hard knobs and the bumps of his  
spine at the nape of his neck. There was that scar he'd gotten from  
falling out of a tree when he was a kid on the inside of his elbow;  
Heero had tried to brush it off at first, thinking it was dirt. The  
face had lost its softness; the curves weren't so gentle anymore, and  
the chin had become firmer, but the features—eyebrows, eyes, lips and  
nose—were the same.

And the hair, always the hair. Heero couldn't forget how it slipped,  
slid, and tangled in his fingers like silk, how the ends brushed  
against his body when they had sex. Even after they'd done it so many  
times, Heero would always grab a handful as Duo began to enter him to  
steady himself. The pictures of Duo after he'd sawed off his braid  
were so painful that Heero didn't bother to look a second time. The  
sooner the images could be erased, the better; Duo looked so  
vulnerable and weak with his hair gone.

Much as he loved the hair, it wasn't Heero's favorite part of Duo. He  
liked the hollow between the Adam's apple and the suprasternal  
notch—the V-shaped area between the collarbones—that he was tracing  
over and over in circles, feeling the skin tighten and relax with  
every breath. The area was slightly longer than someone's little  
finger, in the shape of an inverted teardrop, tapering to a point at  
the collarbone.

"This is mine," he said to nobody in particular.

"Sneh?" Duo blearily opened his eyes. He'd been dozing.

"This." Heero circled the hollow again. "I want this place. It's my  
favorite part of you, so I'm claiming it."

Duo chuckled lazily. "Oh, thanks for asking permission. Nah, kidding.  
You can claim all of me if you want. But why that place?"

"The hollow at the base of your neck?"

"Yeah," Duo said, "someone called it the vascular sizood' somewhere  
in a book that I can't remember. Couldn't have been more far off.  
Nothing vascular about that area. Anyway, it's a crazy place to pick.  
Most people say they like someone's hair, chest, legs or hands." He  
shrugged. "I'm just curious. There's nothing too special about it."

Heero pressed his fingertip in the middle of the hollow. "Take a deep  
breath," he said. Duo inhaled, and the skin caved in, forming a  
shallow cup.

"Good. Now let it out." As Duo exhaled, the skin relaxed, and the cup  
was gone. "See, it moves every time you breathe."

"So does my chest."

"Sure. But the way your chest looks and feels will change. It's  
already changed, like here," Heero slid a hand over Duo's ribs, where  
they were now snugly covered with wiry muscle. "_This_," he said, "has  
and always will be the same. You'll get older, and your body will  
change more, except for this."

"One thing that still remains from AC 196, huh?" Duo yawned. His  
hands had stopped roaming over Heero's back a long time ago, and they  
were currently clasped around his waist. The hollow at Duo's neck kept  
expanding and contracting with each breath.

That was another reason why Heero liked that place; it was always  
visible, but not so visible that it was the first thing anyone noticed  
about Duo. Instead, it was hidden, tucked away under the shadows of  
his chin, but if one really wanted to look, it was in plain view at  
the same time.

He liked that; the hollow was intimate, something he'd only really  
see or touch if he was close to Duo, but also something he didn't have  
to peel off clothing to get to.

Nestling in that area made him feel at peace, able to rest. Speaking  
of rest...

"Duo," Heero said, "we should go to bed."

Duo didn't answer. An upward glance indicated that he'd fallen  
asleep, and now he was snoring softly. Heero considered waking Duo up  
to go upstairs, but the more he thought about it, he realized that he  
didn't really want to move upstairs either. Spotting a plaid blanket  
that Moira had folded under the nearby coffee table the night before,  
he reached over and pulled it out, spreading it over himself and Duo.

"I am never letting you drink this much again," Heero muttered  
dryly. He bent over, gently kissing Duo's collarbone before turning  
off the light.

"God, I _cannot_ believe you got away with that."

"I did."

Heero heard Moira whistle for the second time over in the foyer. Her  
friend Amy had arrived, and they were leaving for a movie and then  
dinner, so she wouldn't be returning home until late. There were only  
four days of vacation left before school started again, so they were  
trying to make the most of it. As soon as Amy had walked in the front  
door, she'd pulled down the waistband of her pants and proudly  
revealed a tattoo of butterfly wings on the small of her back, even  
showing Duo as he passed by.

"My parents took it okay," Amy said. "Mom was saying that at least I  
didn't put it somewhere people could see all the time."

Moira laughed, and Heero saw her toss her long hair back out of the  
corner of his eye. "I wouldn't get a tattoo. I'd get a piercing either  
on my eyebrow or my bellybutton..."

"Not until you're at least eighteen," Duo called out from the  
kitchen, while Heero simultaneously growled, "_No_."

"I'm joking, I'm joking," Moira protested, giggling, before she  
turned to Amy. "Let's go. We're gonna be late." The girls linked arms  
and went out the door, Moira yelling, "Bye!" and waving to Heero  
before Amy yanked her outside.

It then occurred to Heero, as he watched them saunter down the  
walkway, that it was a very real possibility that he'd never know  
Moira as well as Duo did. That would have been one benefit of waking  
up five or ten years earlier; Moira would have been a child, and he'd  
have been around to watch her develop and grow.

But he hadn't woken up five or ten years earlier, he'd woken up  
now, and Moira was nearing adulthood too quickly for him. In five or  
six more years, she'd have a Ph.D in physics at the rate she was  
progressing; slow compared to himself and Duo, but still fast  
nonetheless compared to others in her field. By that time, she  
probably wouldn't be living here—she'd probably think about moving  
someplace else on Earth, or maybe one of the colonies.

"Duo?"

He heard Duo's footsteps coming down the hallway. "Yeah?"

"Remember that conversation we had on New Year's?"

"Yeah, what about it?" Duo came up next to him and looked out the  
window.

"There _are_ some memories that I'd want." They were standing next to  
each other, watching the snow gather on the ground. As soon as it  
stopped falling, they'd have to shovel the sidewalks again.

"What?" Duo asked.

"I'd want to see Moira grow up. She's going to be an adult soon, and  
I think I'll never know her as well as you do."

At that, Duo crossed his arms, nodding knowingly.

"That's true, I guess. Fifteen years is a lot of time. But," Duo  
said, raising his eyebrows, "didn't you also say that you'd still be  
able to know someone no matter how old they were?"

Heero snorted. "That was you. Moira was a baby when you left, and  
she wasn't fully formed, and she is now."

"Heero, that girl has a ton of growing up to do." Duo laughed, and  
reached behind him to tighten the elastic on his ponytail. "Hell,  
sometimes I feel like I'm not grown up yet. You've got a while to get  
to know her. Trust me on this; at least you missed out on the crazy  
stuff. She didn't calm down until she hit twelve." His ponytail swung  
from side to side before he grabbed it and gave it one last yank.

Heero shook his head. "It's not the same. You got to see her grow up."

He looked down at his hands, not really seeing them or anything else.  
"She's everything and nothing I expected her to be," he whispered, so  
softly that he hadn't realized that he said it until Duo shrugged in  
response.

"Only half of it, really. She's developing at a slower rate than we  
did; she's getting to go through high school and college and she's  
only three years ahead. I'd say compared to us, she's a normal  
teenager, and that means that you haven't missed much."

When Heero made a skeptical grunt, Duo put his hands on his hips.  
"All right. Look at it this way; she's always going to be my little  
girl, no matter how old she gets. She could be my age and I'll still  
think of her as a kid. You, on the other hand, get to know her as a  
person. You'll be closer to equal ground to her because of that."

Heero didn't say anything. Duo sighed, releasing his arms. "Means  
that much to you, huh? Don't worry about it. You'll get to see her  
grow up. She's not going anywhere for a while."

He then turned and headed back to the kitchen while Heero stared out  
the window, waiting for Moira to return.

Note: the "vascular sizood" remark is from _The_ _English Patient_ by  
Michael Ondaatje. It's corrected in the movie, but not in the novel.


	9. Chapter 9

True North  
Chapter 9  
Pairing: 2x1  
Category: AU  
Warning: OC kid  
Gundam Wing copyright Bandai, Sunrise, and Sotsu Agency. "Eien no  
Rhapsody" copyright Midori Saiha/Ringo Zaidan.

"The Light Before We Land" lyrics copyright the Delgados, 2002.

Thanks to Diamroyal for beta-reading!

"There. Now, as all of you can see, many of you didn't do too well on  
this exam," Professor Westin said, circling one portion of the  
projected graph on the lecture hall's flatscreen with his laser  
pointer. The numbers along the bottom read in the forties to fifties.

"Fuck," Moira heard Audrey growl. "There goes my GPA." Moira gulped  
as she eyed the exam scores. They didn't look good; the highest one  
was in the eighties range. Even if that was her score, that was way  
below how she normally scored on anything.

Professor Westin's midterm was known around Blair to be the worst  
exam for freshmen. One, it was impossible to study for, and two, the  
hit everyone took was hard to recover from. Glancing around the room,  
Moira noted that everyone was wearing despondent expressions. She  
didn't feel that great either; despite the building having a good  
heating system, cold tingles were pricking their way up her legs.

"Your individual scores are available on the class webpage. For those  
who are interested, the average was a fifty-six point five percent.  
There's only one outlier, with a score of eighty-five percent," he  
said, circling the highest score.

Audrey elbowed Moira's ribs. "I bet that's you," she said, brushing  
back her short black hair with her other hand.

Moira didn't say anything, shaking her head in disbelief as Professor  
Westin shut off the pointer with a click.

"That concludes today's class. Have a nice day, everyone," he said.

"Nice day my ass," Audrey muttered. "Now I'll have to study like  
crazy to make up for this. Goodbye social life, goodbye parties, it  
was nice knowin' ya." She slammed her laptop shut, disconnected the  
battery, and hoisted her bag up onto her desk.

"They weren't kidding when they said that it was the hardest exam,"  
Moira grumbled, taking her coat from the chair and shrugging it on. "I  
don't want to see my score. I just don't."

Audrey was about to snap back a retort when Professor Westin came up  
the steps to their row of desks. "Miss Maxwell, I'd like a word with  
you before you go. Would you come with me into my office?"

Moira turned to Audrey, who shrugged. "Okay," she said. "Audrey, do  
you mind telling Dina I'll be late?"

Professor Westin's office was in the next building over. While the  
walk there was very short, both he and Moira were silent the entire way.

The office was small and cramped, with two shelves of books taking up  
one wall of the room. The other wall was taken up by a desk whose  
surface was cluttered with stacks of papers, e-books, and a desktop  
computer. Weak sunlight filtered in through the only window. Except  
for the shelves, desk and two chairs, the room was bare.

Moira didn't like where this was going, even the way the door slid  
open reminded her of a guillotine blade, if only going backwards.

"Please sit," Professor Westin said, gesturing to one of the chairs.  
Moira sat, looking around her nervously. Why would Professor Westin  
want to talk to her? She hadn't done anything wrong, at least not  
anything she knew of...

"I'd like to speak with you about the exam," he said, taking off his  
coat and draping it over the other chair.

"What about it?" Moira asked, her gloved hands gripping her bag  
tightly. She felt a strand of hair tickling her nose, but her hands  
wouldn't move.

Professor Westin sat down, leaning his elbows on his knees, and gazed  
at Moira. His eyes were an intense grayish green, and the way he  
stared at her from the top of his glasses made them pretty damn scary.

"Your score was the outlier in the entire class," he said, then  
taking a deep breath. "That's the highest score I've had a student  
receive on that particular exam in twenty years of teaching here."

"I don't know what to say," Moira said, fighting to keep the  
shakiness out of her voice. Part of her was relieved that her grade  
wouldn't take a hit, but the other part wasn't liking the look in the  
professor's eyes.

"So, how did you do it?" he asked. His tone was mild, perhaps  
thoughtful, but Moira felt like fidgeting in her chair.

"I studied hard, since people say this is the hardest exam. That's  
it, I guess," Moira said, shrugging. "Unless you count me getting a  
good night's sleep and eating a good breakfast before I came in, then  
the rest was luck, y'know?" She forced a smile.

Professor Westin sat back, sighing. "I don't suppose that this luck'  
would have come in the form of a copy of an exam you happened to get  
your hands on?" he asked.

Moira blinked. "What?"

"Don't pretend to be ignorant, Miss Maxwell. Either that, or you  
managed to sneak in crib notes under my nose." He took off his  
glasses, breathing on the lenses and then wiping them on the hem of  
his shirt. "There is no possible way you could have scored that high  
without outside help."

All Moira could do was sit there in stunned silence, mouth open in  
shock. He couldn't think she...

"Are you accusing me of cheating, Professor Westin?" she finally  
asked.

"There's no other way you could have scored that high," he said.  
"Usually, the school policy with students caught cheating on an exam  
is to give them an automatic fail. Here, however, you've got two  
options. You can take the failing grade, along with turning in the  
crib notes or the illegal copy of the exam you have, or," he paused  
meaningfully, "you can retake it tonight where I can proctor you  
myself. Of course, if you refuse to do both, I'll have no choice but  
to give you the automatic fail anyway."

Moira rose from her chair. "I'll see you in your office at five, then?"

Professor Westin nodded, as if he was expecting that to be her  
answer. "Try to be on time."

By the time she was down the hall from Professor Westin's office,  
Moira was livid. She couldn't _believe_ that he'd thought that she  
cheated on a test just because the score was too high. It was too  
goddamned _dumb_ to believe; how the hell would you sneak in crib  
notes into the classroom? Other than the optional card with all the  
formulae they were allowed to have, the TAs checked everyone for those  
sorts of things.

And as for old copies of exams...well, Moira had heard about those,  
but even if she wanted to buy one, the prices weren't at all reasonable.

She hadn't wanted to do the retake, really, but anything was better  
than an automatic fail. It didn't make it any less ridiculous, though;  
now she'd be home at least an hour late. Not only that, but she'd need  
to make time to review the material. That meant cutting lunch and two  
lectures. Then she remembered that she had an assignment due for one  
of those classes.

"Fuck. Why me?" she hissed to herself, sticking a hand in her pocket  
for her cell phone. She needed to call home and tell Papa that she'd  
be late, that she needed to take care of some business over here.  
Assuming things worked out all right, that's all he and Dad needed to  
know; if not, she'd tell them the entire story. Assuming Audrey told  
Dina that she'd be late, Moira still had some time.

Moira had gotten out the phone and started dialing when she heard  
someone ask, "Maxwell?" It was Professor Chang, the instructor for one  
of today's lectures. He taught theoretical physics, and while Moira  
had originally selected the class just to get rid of the requirement  
she needed for graduation, it turned out to be very interesting.

"Oh, hi," Moira said, looking up from her cell phone. "Um..." she  
searched in her bag, "I've got today's homework with me right now. Is  
it all right if I give it to you now?" She found her file of  
assignments and opened it up.

Professor Chang frowned. "Is there a reason why you won't be able to  
turn it in at the beginning of today's lecture?" he asked. Moira  
swallowed nervously, focusing on the buttons of his shirt, not wanted  
to look into the Chinese man's eyes.

"I need to retake an exam," she said, her eyes taking in how pressed  
and clean his shirt was. "See," Moira lowered her voice, "Professor  
Westin thinks I cheated because of the score I got, so if I don't  
retake it tonight, he'll fail me."

Professor Chang shook his head in disbelief. "That's impossible. For  
a student like yourself, scores like that would be expected." He'd  
taken one look at Moira's last name on the attendance roster and had  
asked her about who her parents were. She'd dodged answering the  
question until the third or fourth week she saw him in office hours;  
then she'd simply given him the names, and that was that. It turned  
out that Professor Chang was only curious. As the term had progressed,  
Moira found herself respecting him a great deal; he was strict, yes,  
but he was also fair and extremely passionate about teaching.

"Yeah, well," Moira shrugged. "I...I need the lecture time to study  
and refresh my memory. I hope that's all right..." She flipped through  
the file, pulling out the homework assignment and giving it to  
Professor Chang. He took it, skimming over both sides before nodding  
approvingly.

"This will do," he said. "Best of luck to you on the retake. If  
there's time, would you please come see me afterwards? There's  
something I'd like to discuss with you."

Moira nodded. At least from Professor Chang she could tell that it  
wasn't likely to be bad.

"Goodbye for now, then," he said, going on his way. Moira watched his  
retreating back, his short ponytail going down the top of his back  
like a paintbrush. She took a few deep breaths, took her cell phone,  
and pressed "Call".

"Hey, it's me," she said. "Listen, I'm going to come home late  
tonight..."

Upon retaking the exam, Moira didn't score an eighty-five.

She scored a ninety-six.

"Well," Professor Westin said, looking extremely flustered and  
shocked as he handed the test paper back to Moira, "it appears that  
there's been a misunderstanding. You weren't cheating after all."

"No, I wasn't." Her voice was cool and calm, and she was trying her  
hardest to keep a smirk from appearing on her face.

"I suppose my standards for you weren't high enough; you're clearly a  
very brilliant student," he said, stroking his gray beard  
thoughtfully. "I hope we can expect great things from you in the  
future. Extremely great things. In fact, I'd expect you to do very  
well in my class."

Moira had had enough. That gleam in Professor Westin's eye was  
beginning to seriously freak her out. "Professor Westin, I'd like both  
copies of the original exam and the retake for my records. Oh, and I  
want that retake to count as the official score."

Professor Westin boggled at her; he clearly hadn't expected her to  
suddenly display such confidence, and it was making him visibly  
uncomfortable. "C-certainly, Miss Maxwell," he stammered.

It didn't take very long for him to make the copies, as his printer  
also had a built-in scanner and copier. In less than a minute, Moira  
had both of them in her hands, still warm. With a short nod, she left  
Professor Westin's office, only to see Professor Chang outside.

"Done already?" he asked, raising both eyebrows. "I suppose you did  
well?"

Moira nodded, grinning. "Take a look," she said, handing the retake  
to Professor Chang as they headed down to his office.

"You did better? That's not surprising. You were already familiar  
with the material during the first time you took the exam," he said.  
"Still, congratulations."

Moira smiled, putting the exam copies in her bag. "Thanks. You wanted  
to see me about something?"

"Yes, I did," Professor Chang said. "I've been observing your work  
over this term, and as expected, it's very well done. Your parents  
must be proud."

Moira made a noncommittal noise. For her, it was normal. For Dad, it  
was normal. For Papa, well, she didn't know.

"I talked to Dr. Solotski, your supervisor, and she's in agreement  
with me. Therefore," he opened the door to his office, "I'd like to  
offer you a position as a research assistant with a project I'm doing."

Moira's eyes widened. "Really?"

"It's theoretical work, and I realize it's not the sort of thing most  
students want to do, but this is funded by the government, and unlike  
applied physics, you would get credit for all the research you do," he  
said, sitting down at his desk. "I've got some paperwork here that  
goes into further detail, and while I'd be very pleased if you decided  
to join us, there's no rush to make a decision right away."

"When would this be?" Moira asked. There wasn't really any way she  
could do it now; her schedule was insane enough as is, and didn't look  
like it'd be letting up any time soon.

"During the summer. It'd start sometime in June," Professor Chang  
said, handing her the paperwork as he stood up. "This explains the  
project, and it has some formalities that you need to go over with  
your parents, since you're still a minor." He turned to the shelf next  
to the desk and took out a large teacup, along with a bag of oolong  
tea. Moira was familiar with this; he would perform this ritual every  
time she came to see him.

"I'll do it." Moira couldn't believe this was happening. "I'll do it  
for sure."

Professor Chang didn't turn around, but instead took out a pinch of  
tea leaves from the bag and dropped them inside. "Very well. Get the  
paperwork back to me as soon as you can, and we'll get you started."

"Terrific! I'll get it back to you the next time we have class.  
Thanks so much!" Moira squealed. She could have hugged the man, she  
was so happy.

"You're welcome," Professor Chang said. "But for now, go home. You  
could use the rest."

As soon as Moira left the building, though, she was whooping for joy.  
She'd have turned cartwheels outside if Sabrina and Ethan hadn't been  
there waiting for her, wondering why she was so damn happy.

Ethan raised his mug in the air. "This deserves a toast," he said. "I  
can't believe Westin did that to you, Moira, but it's real awesome  
that you got an even higher score. Cheers!"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Sabrina cried. "I don't have enough of this  
left!" Her glass only held a half-inch of her drink amongst all the melting ice inside. Moira wondered how Sabrina could drink an Italian soda when there was still snow on the ground outside.

Ethan shook his head, his loose sandy bangs threatening to dip  
themselves into his hot chocolate. "That's enough to me. C'mon.  
Cheers!" he yelled, and he and Moira clinked their mugs together. The  
coffee she'd ordered was still hot, and it burned her throat as she  
drank it down. She didn't care that people in the café were staring at  
the three of them; hell, they should have been staring just from the  
ear-to-ear grin she had.

Sabrina sipped daintly at what was left of her drink. "You do realize  
that now with a ninety-six, you've killed any chance of a curve for  
us, right?" The warm light inside the café made her red hair shine a  
dark copper and her freckles stood out on her pale face like grains of  
cinnamon. "Well, not like the eighty-five wouldn't have done it  
either," she said, putting one hand behind her neck and spinning the  
empty glass with the other.

Ethan laughed, slinging an arm around Moira's shoulders and pulling  
her close. "Aw, Sabrina, don't get all mad at her. Westin's an  
asshole, you know that."

"Easy for you to say," Sabrina grumbled. She stopped the glass, only  
to start spinning it again. "You're not in his lecture anymore. If it  
wasn't for Craig's notes, I'd have to drop it by now."

The glass wobbled dangerously close to the edge of the table, but  
Sabrina caught it in time.

"Hey, could you stop that?" Moira asked. "That's freaking me out."

Sabrina stuck out her tongue. "Make me," she said. "Anyway, that  
reminds me. We need to plan another date soon, cause it's our  
three-month anniversary! With Craig-Craig!" The last three words were practically trilled out, with a hand flung out for emphasis. Sabrina's knuckles collided with the glass and sent it off the table, where it crashed and broke on the floor.

"Ah, shit!" the other girl snapped. Moira only sighed, rolling her  
eyes. Biting back an "I told you so" on the tip of her tongue, she  
pulled away from Ethan, got up from her seat, and knelt down. "Here,  
I'll help you clean it up."

The glass had shattered, Moira could see that much. Except for the  
bottom, the rest of it lay in pieces no bigger than her thumb at most.  
This was going to take a while to get off the floor.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Sabrina said hurriedly, also  
kneeling down and batting her scarf out of the way.

"Don't worry about it. It'll be faster this way." Moira spotted a  
bigger shard near her knee and reached over to pick it up. One down,  
she thought, putting it on the table. They'd find some way to get it  
all to the garbage later. She went to pick up the bottom and then  
cried out as she felt a sharp, sudden pain stab her right wrist.

"Oh, God, did you cut yourself?" Sabrina asked, concerned.

Moira held up her right wrist. "I think so. How's it loo-" Her  
sentence was cut off by an arc of blood spurting out onto the floor.

"Aw, fuck," she muttered. Sabrina turned even paler and clutched her  
stomach, as two more spurts of blood followed, spraying the ground  
with bright red. Moira grabbed her wrist with her other hand to stop  
the bleeding, but she could feel more of it coming through her fingers.

"Holy shit!" Ethan yelled, jumping up from his chair. "I'm gonna go  
find some paper towels," he called back to Moira as he ran off.

People were gathering around Moira and Sabrina now, looking on  
curiously, or shouting out more instructions as to what Moira should  
do to stop the bleeding, such as raising her arm over her head to slow  
the circulation.

There was some jerk who was actually taking a picture with his cell  
phone, but unfortunately Moira had other things to worry about, as  
there was now a puddle of blood on the floor despite her best efforts.

"Out of the way, everybody." The crowd parted instantly; the speaker  
had a voice that was quiet, but held a tremendous amount of force. She  
heard footsteps, and then someone knelt down beside her.

"Take your hand off," he said. Moira obeyed, grimacing; blood was  
everywhere on her arm, staining the sleeve of her sweater, and her  
other hand was sticky with it. She felt a towel being wrapped around  
her wrist.

"Okay, now hold onto that for me." Looking over her shoulder, Moira  
saw that the speaker worked at the café; he had the trademark black  
apron that all of the baristas wore at the counter. Half of his face  
was obscured by a mop of red-brown hair. She wrapped her good hand  
around the towel; the cut still hurt a lot, but not as much with  
something around it.

"Good. Come on. I'm taking you to the hospital," he said. His voice  
felt reassuring; it was quiet, but it also had a control that made  
Moira feel calm on the inside, telling her everything would be taken  
care of.

The next thing she knew, the guy had thrown her coat over her  
shoulders, taken her bag, and was now helping her up and guiding her  
towards the exit.

"Tell Ethan what happened," Moira said to Sabrina, who was still  
huddled over herself on the floor.

"Hey, hey! What're you doing, Trowa? Your shift's not over yet!"  
someone shrieked.

"I'm taking this girl to the hospital. Just tell Matt what happened,  
okay? I think he'll understand." And with that, he hustled Moira out  
the door and into the cold February evening.

One hour later, Moira felt worse. That was to say, she felt like she'd  
been in the mother of all bar fights and tossed out through a  
third-story window, bouncing five times on the road before getting run  
over by an eighteen-wheel truck.

Well, her arm felt pretty good, but that was because of the local  
anesthetic they'd injected before gluing the cut together with the  
liquid stitches. "Pretty good" in this case meant totally numb. She  
gave it yet another whack against the car door. Nope. Didn't feel  
anything.

"Don't do that," Trowa said, flicking on the turn signal. "It's not  
going to help your arm."

The hospital visit had been quick, but that was probably to be  
expected—the nurses took one look at her wrist and the blood-spotted  
towel and had all but dragged her into an examination room by the  
scruff of her neck. They sent her back to the waiting room, all  
patched up, with a bottle of iron pills and firm instructions to take  
the next few days off.

"Sorry," Moira said, slouching down in the car seat. Trowa had offered  
to drive her back home, and she'd accepted; after all, she wasn't in  
any condition to ride her scooter back home. With the lock on it that  
was keyed to her fingerprints, though, it'd be fine until she came back.

If only the nurses had given her something for her head; it _hurt_.  
Not like the dull headaches she'd get occasionally, but sharp, slicing  
pain through her temples like razors underneath her skin. She was very  
close to pounding her head against the window just so she wouldn't  
have to feel it, but then she'd feel the turns in the car, and that  
wasn't good either, because she'd barely been able to walk unassisted  
out of the hospital. Trowa had taken her arm and guided her out after  
seeing her take a few steps by herself, despite her protests.

"You holding up okay?" Trowa asked, his one visible green eye flicking  
upward towards the rearview mirror. "We're almost there," he said,  
still in that calm, controlled voice.

And they were. Moira could see the familiar sign that was at the  
beginning of her street. A minute later, Trowa was pulling up onto the  
driveway.

Fumbling for her bag and the small bottle of pills, she unbuckled her  
seat belt, opened the car door and gingerly stepped outside. "Thanks a  
lot for driving me home," she said to Trowa, inwardly grimacing at how  
her voice sounded. It was all raspy, like she'd been screaming for  
hours on end.

"Can you make it back by yourself? Do you need me to walk you up to  
the porch?" Trowa asked. Moira shook her head.

"Nah, don't worry about it. I'm good," she replied, grinning weakly.  
"You've done a lot for me today. Thanks again."

A ghost of a smile appeared on the young man's face. "It's not a big  
deal. My shift's over anyway, so I better get home myself right now,"  
he said.

"You should get going, then."

Trowa nodded. "Take care," he said. Moira waved at him weakly, shut  
the car door, and then staggered towards her house. The chirp of the  
handprint recognition lock made another bolt of pain crack across her  
head, bringing her to her knees as soon as she stumbled inside.

Make it stop, she thought, clutching her head. She'd tear off her  
scalp if she could right now, it was that bad.

Instead, she crumpled to the floor as another searing pain tore its  
way through and everything went black.

When Moira finally opened her eyes, it was morning, an especially  
dreary one, with its trademark overcast gray sky greeting her from the  
window. Better than sunshine at any rate; considering that she still  
felt pretty shitty, the rays would have been painfully dazzling.

The headache had dulled to a pounding sensation, felt mostly in the  
temples. She was on the living room couch--that much she could  
see--but why she was there she didn't know. The last thing she  
remembered was passing out in the foyer. She reached into the pocket  
of her jeans for her cell phone, pulling it out from underneath the  
quilt that covered her—which was from her own bed, she could see the  
white and silver stars—and blinked. The screen's black numbers read  
9:17 A.M.

Trowa had dropped her off around eight last night, which meant that  
she'd been conked out for a good thirteen hours. That explained why  
her right arm was throbbing from getting out the cell; the drugs had  
worn off. While the skin was clean and bandaged, her sweater wasn't; the area all the way up the forearm was a dirty brick red.

She needed a shower. And a change of clothes. Then pills, preferably  
anything that would kill the headache and the pain in her arm. And  
water, lots of it, because her throat felt so dry she half expected  
sand to come pouring out. Grabbing hold of the couch's armrest, Moira  
swung her legs over the edge and sat up, only to have everything go  
black again for a few seconds, followed by the worst spinning sensation.

If this was what a hangover was like, the role of designated driver  
looked really good right now, Moira thought, walking unsteadily  
towards the stairs and licking her lips to moisten them. After all of  
this, she was going to bed and not moving until she felt normal again.

Given that she couldn't even walk in a straight line after sleeping  
for so long, normal was going to take a while.

"I go out of the house for five minutes and you're already overdoing  
it," Papa grumbled. He'd found Moira hanging onto the bathroom  
countertop for dear life as she was shaking out the pills for her  
headache after her shower.

"I thought I'd feel better with a shower," she muttered. "I can walk  
by myself. You don't have to carry me. Why are we going back to the  
living room? I thought I should be in bed."

That only earned a scowl from Papa. "You were weaving," he said. "We  
put you to bed last night, but I took you downstairs because it's  
easier to keep watch, or so I thought until you went to take a shower  
as soon as I was gone."

"I'm tired now. And I'm cold."

"Good. Then I can put you on the couch and not worry about you pulling  
anything like this for the next few hours," he said briskly, entering  
the living room.

"You're lucky I didn't try to go after the Vicodin," Moira said, yawning.

Papa glared at her as he lowered her down onto the couch. "That thins  
your blood, so you'd be worse off," he said dryly. "Try to get some  
rest. When you're up, I want to talk to you about what happened last  
night."

Moira was too exhausted to protest. Pulling the quilt over her head,  
she moaned and turned on her side to face the couch. Of course, Papa  
immediately yanked it down, sharply saying something about  
suffocation, but by then she was already hurtling towards sleep.

This time, when Moira woke up, she felt better, though nowhere close  
to fully functional. The headache had disappeared and the pain in her  
wrist had gone down some, though her hands still felt like blocks of  
ice. Putting on two shirts and a cardigan hadn't helped things. She  
fished into her jeans pocket again—there hadn't been any need to toss  
them into the wash, unlike her shirt—and pulled out her Seashell.  
There had to be an mp3 stick still in there; she'd listened to music  
to keep herself calm while studying yesterday in the library.

The Seashell whirred to life, and in a few seconds Moira heard a swell  
of a full string orchestra, followed by a choir. Without really  
thinking about it, she started to sing along.

"In cases such as these I'd like a hand..." The song made her feel,  
well, less rotten. It mellowed her out with its slow pace and steady  
drum beats. Moira closed her eyes, lips still moving, getting lost  
within the music, letting it coil around her and keep her safe. She'd  
picked up the stick after hearing a sample on the Internet, and even  
though it was old, old music, there was something so dreamy and calm  
about this song—called "The Light Before We Land"—that was able to  
smooth out any ruffled emotions she'd had. Few songs were able to do  
that.

She heard Papa step into the living room and set something down on the  
coffee table, but still kept singing, "let me stay a while...soak it  
in a while...if we can hold on we can fix what is wrong..."

A hand was on her shoulder, shaking her gently. "Sit up. You need to  
drink something," Papa said. Before Moira could even lift her head,  
though, Papa had put an arm under her shoulders and hoisted her up to  
a sitting position. Extra weight settled on the couch, and she opened  
her eyes to see that Papa had taken a seat next to her and was  
reaching out for two glasses of white cranberry juice.

"Here." He offered her a glass, taking the other for himself. "Sip it.  
No gulps. You haven't had anything since you came home last night, so  
you need to be careful."

Nodding in thanks, Moira took the glass and sipped. The tartness of  
the liquid made her pucker her lips. White cranberry was her favorite;  
other juices were all right, but the first juice she'd drunk was this  
one, and Dad bought it often; clear juice didn't leave stains on  
clothing.

Odd that Papa would know she liked it. There hadn't been any in the  
fridge this week; he must have stepped out and gotten some while she'd  
been napping. She took another sip.

"So I guess you want to know what happened," she said casually.  
"Otherwise you wouldn't have poured another glass for yourself and sat  
down here."

Papa didn't answer, but simply turned his head towards her. Moira took  
it as a sign to continue.

"The reason I called and said that I'd be late was because I needed to  
retake a midterm," she began. "Long story short: the prof didn't  
believe I could score that high when everyone else flunked, and  
accused me of cheating."

"You didn't," Papa said. It wasn't a question. Moira nodded sagely.

"That's right. No evidence of that except for an eighty-five percent."  
She took a bigger sip; the juice felt good going down. "So I wound up  
skipping classes to study and did the damn retake. I got a  
ninety-six. I can't believe it, but that's what happened."

Papa shrugged, taking a drink from his glass. "I can. You knew the  
material before you went in the first time. Since you studied it  
again, you knew it better, that's all."

Moira growled. "That showed him. He tried to backpedal, but it was  
pathetic. I could have strangled him. Well, no. I'd pour sour milk  
under the door of his cramped, dark, soulless office for starters,  
though. Dunno about the rest, but it'd be pretty nasty. Good idea, no?"

Papa looked mildly shocked. "You wouldn't.

"Three years ago? I would." Moira nodded, a sly grin creeping over her  
face. "Don't look so freaked out. I glued someone's hands to his butt  
in fourth grade. Oh, I got a detention and Dad grounded me, but that  
felt _good_."

"You're not going to do anything about it, are you?" Papa asked.

Moira shook her head, tossing back a few strands of hair. "No. That  
brings us to what happened next; one of the professors that's /not/ a  
total dick offered me a research assistant position." She paused;  
talking for so long was beginning to make her head spin again. A few  
deep breaths and she felt steadier.

"What kind of research?" Papa's hand was on the side of her head,  
guiding it down to his shoulder. He'd probably seen her swaying or  
something; Moira hadn't felt it, but who knew?

"Theoretical stuff," she murmured. The room wasn't spinning so much  
now that she had something to lean on. "It's kinda boring, but he said  
I'd get credit, and it's government funded, so it's important. He told  
me not to make a decision, and that you and Dad needed to take a look."

Papa nodded. "You should do it. Everyone needs theoretical work  
somewhere in their background." He'd started stroking her hair,  
weaving his fingers through it, barely touching the back of her neck.  
"When you're feeling better, let Duo and I look at what your professor  
gave you."

"Sure." Moira drank deeply this time; she'd had enough of small sips,  
and dammit, she was thirsty. "Anyway," she said, once she'd drained  
her glass, "I ran into two of my friends and we decided to go out for  
a coffee to celebrate. One of em kept spinning her glass and it fell  
off the table's edge and broke. That's how I got this," she waved her  
bandaged wrist slightly; it hurt, but not as badly as before her nap.  
"I was helping her pick them up, and one of the shards gouged me."

Papa took away her glass before putting his own down and reaching for  
her hand. "I know. I examined it this morning. You're lucky you didn't  
lose /too/ much blood." His skin felt unusually warm and dry against  
her own. In fact, /all/ of him felt warm in such a way that Moira  
immediately felt comfortable, whereas lying under a quilt took a while  
for that to happen.

"You're so warm," she murmured. His fingers closed around her own and  
squeezed gently.

"It's the blood loss. You'll feel cold for a couple days," he said,  
moving his thumb up and down the pads of her fingers. "I think you'll  
be back to normal in a week."

Moira groaned. "But I've got school!"

"You can go back to school after the weekend, but you need to take it  
easy for a few days after that. It could have been worse." The last  
sentence was spoken matter-of-factly, and Moira was glad for that.

"The nurses said I lost at least half a pint."

"I believe it." Papa let go of her hand for a moment, putting it next  
to hers, palm facing both of them. "Look at that. See how pale your  
hand is compared to mine?"

Moira blinked. The difference in their skin tones wasn't that much,  
normally. But here, they were like night and day; her hand looked  
off-white next to Papa's.

"Your face looks worse," he said, still in that matter-of-fact tone.

"How bad?"

Eyes darting to her face, he tapped the back of her jaw lightly,  
running down it to her chin. "It's bluish-white. Almost like paper.  
And no, you can't go see for yourself in the mirror. You wouldn't like  
it, and the rise in blood pressure would slow your recovery."

He paused, eyebrows drawing together and tightening his mouth as if he  
was trying to hold something back. Finally, he said, "You were really  
lucky. If you hadn't gotten help sooner, you might have died."

"I didn't mean to worry you," Moira said apologetically. She was  
getting sleepy again, even though she'd just woken up from a nap. The  
next time Sabrina even thought about spinning a glass...

Papa pulled her in closer, encircling her in both of his arms  
briefly, before just resting his chin on top of her head. "It's okay.  
It could have happened to anyone." The warm soapy smell he had was  
making Moira even sleepier. It was a struggle to keep her eyes open  
just a crack, but she was afraid that if she fell asleep, Papa would  
leave.

"Could you just stay here?" she asked.

Papa didn't answer. Instead, she felt his hand move until it rested  
between her shoulderblades, the fingers spreading outwards, as if it  
was anchoring itself onto her back.

That was all she needed, and she allowed herself to drift off, barely  
aware of Papa rubbing that area in small side-to-side strokes.

"...so scary. My God, she looks like a corpse."

"Quiet, Duo. You'll wake her up."

Too late for that, Moira thought, awareness rushing back into her. Dad  
was home, so it had to be five thirty at the earliest. But before she  
could say that she was already up, Papa said, "She's spent more time  
asleep than awake today."

She heard Dad make an ambivalent noise. "That's normal. You get any  
fluids in her?"

"Some juice. I think she had some water before that." He patted  
Moira's elbow. "I want her to drink more before she goes to bed tonight."

Dad chuckled, and she heard him kneel down next to the couch. "Looks  
like you don't have to worry about not getting along with her," he  
whispered. "Check it out; she's draped across your lap."

"You think so? I put her there because she was straining my neck."

Moira felt Dad poking her head. "Looks pretty comfortable."

"Don't do that," Papa grumbled. A soft slap, and Dad's hand was  
swatted away, but all he did was laugh.

"Boy, Heero. I know there's not much age difference between you two,  
but when I came in here, it was real easy to tell who was the parent  
and who was the kid. I don't know how to really say it, but..." Dad  
fell silent.

Papa sighed. "My parents died when I was seven, so I wouldn't know."  
He started to lightly scratch Moira's nape. "I feel bad she had to go  
through something similar."

Moira wanted to speak up, to say, "No, it really wasn't as bad as you  
thought," but all she could do was lay there paralyzed. Even if she  
wanted to, she couldn't open her eyes for love or money.

Dad snorted. "I think she made it through okay, if you ask me. She's a  
happy kid, you know. Well, except for the crazy scrapes she got in,  
then she was downright evil. I hope she's grown out of them by now." A  
low rumble emanated from his direction.

"Ho boy," Dad said. "Too bad I don't feel like cooking tonight. I  
think my alternate's knocked out of commission here."

At that, Moira was finally able to open her eyes. There was Dad, off  
to the side, squatting at Papa's knees. Noticing she was awake, Dad's  
expression softened.

"How's my baby holding up?" he asked, ruffling her bangs. His hands,  
like Papa's, were also very warm to the touch.

"I think I'll live," she croaked dryly. "And I'm hungry." Dad grinned,  
holding both hands up in surrender.

"Okay, okay. I guess I'll go order Vietnamese right now," he said.  
"The usual, cept for you, young lady, extra beef on your pho." He got  
up, stretching both arms.

"I get the iced coffee?" Moira asked hopefully.

"Decaf," Dad shot back as he left the room. "You need the fluid, and  
it's better if you keep resting."

"Better n nothin', I guess," she muttered. Her condition hadn't  
really gone up that much; now, it was like before, minus getting hit  
with a truck and bouncing on the pavement. "Man, I don't feel so good."

"It's all right if you rest some more," Papa said. "You need to  
anyway." His hand moved upwards to brush out her hair, which had  
gotten tangled while she'd been sleeping.

Moira flipped over a quarter-turn so she was facing him. "You sure?"  
He had to have been sitting there forever. She couldn't sit that still  
for so long; she fidgeted in her seat after about forty-five minutes.

"It's not a problem." Papa ran his fingers down her cheek. "Go back to  
sleep."

"All right," she said, and closed her eyes again.


	10. Chapter 10

True North

Chapter 10

Pairing: 2x1

Category: AU

Warnings: OC kid

Gundam Wing copyright Bandai, Sunrise, and Sotsu Agency. "Eien no Rhapsody" copyright Midori Saiha/Ringo Zaidan. "Flowers in the Window" by Travis, 2001.

The first thing Duo did upon getting out of the car was stretch every muscle in his body. The driver's seat had had a lot of legroom, but it didn't make up for him not moving for a good few hours.

Still, he had to admit, it was a small price to pay for arriving at the small beach he hadn't been to in years. With good timing too; he'd managed to get vacation days just when Moira's spring break was starting.

White Sands wasn't a popular beach in the spring; most people on Earth still wanted to head down to the tropics, where it was sunny and blistering hot. That left White Sands—a little manmade beach a couple hundred miles south of where they were—with a handful of people at most. It gave the area a sleepy feeling, which was what Duo wanted. He didn't /mind/ crowds, did just fine with them, but when he wanted to get away, he wanted to get /away/. Heero disliked crowds outright, and it didn't seem to matter to Moira one way or another—there had been situations where Duo had seen her thoroughly enjoying herself.

"This is it," Duo said, pointing with the keys to the small wooden two-story cabin that they'd parked in front of. "Man, it's been a while since we've been here. How long would you say it was, Moira?"

Moira shrugged, tugging on her wristband. "Last time we were here, I was eight...I think."

Duo whistled, shaking his head. "That's a damn long time." He kicked at the gravel. "But anyway, let's get inside," he said, going to the trunk and popping it open. "I want a nap before dinner."

He heard footsteps pattering on the ground as he pulled out a suitcase.

"Watch the guitar! /Watch the guitar/!" Moira shrieked, and she flung herself at the trunk before Duo was able to put the suitcase down. It landed with a thud, almost pulling Duo down too.

When he could find a solid footing again, he saw Moira leaning against the bumper of the car, heaving a relieved sigh. The guitar had rolled so that she was now supporting it with her back.

"The guitar's not going to break that easily, especially if it's in a case, hon. Keep that in mind the next time you're knocking someone over," Duo said, dusting himself off. "Now, get the damn thing and help us get the rest of the stuff inside of the house." He pointed at Heero, who was making his way to the door with the cooler. "Look, he doesn't have the keys."

With that, he hauled the suitcase towards the cabin with one hand, digging for the keys in his pocket with the other, the sound of Moira cooing to her guitar fading in the background.

Moira sucked in a deep breath. "Wow," she said to herself. "We haven't been back in /forever/."

She was standing in the room she'd slept in the last time she and Dad had been here. From what she could tell, it was all the same; the bed was still up against the window, the rug next to it the same shade of pine green dotted with violets, and the mattress still creaked when she bounced up and down on the bed.

A stream of giggles bubbled from Moira as she hopped off the bed and twirled around the room. It was like she was seven years old again, with no school and a beach where she could swim and go canoeing with Dad, run around on the sand, and on the last night, build a fire and then sit and watch the sky for a while after it went out.

It made her happy for some strange reason, to be back here, to feel like she was little again. She'd have to ask Dad if they could do the fire this time; she loved the fire part the best, and this time she'd really be able to get some good pictures.

Granted, they were only here for a few days instead of a week, but they could still do a lot in that amount of time. Moira had it all planned out; she'd checked the weather at White Sands for when she'd go running on the beach with her camera. She'd wade in the lake in the afternoon; that was when the heating lines underwater were at their best, and then go out and play her guitar on the porch after dinner.

Yeah, she felt good. Spring break started this Friday, and since Dina had given them all a day off, there'd only been two classes to worry about before she went home for lunch. After that, they'd piled into the car and driven five hours here. Kinda strange when she thought about it; White Sands was so different from home that when she was here, it was as if home and whatever was in it never existed. That made pretending to be seven years old even better, because when they weren't home, she wasn't reminded of Blair or its assignments. No tangible responsibilities made it easier to /have/ a vacation. And then, Moira thought, well, it wasn't /too/ far off until the end of the year in May.

Moira sat back down on the bed, crossing her legs Indian-style on the mattress and took off her wristband on her right arm. She'd worn it to hide the bandage on the cut she'd gotten in the café before; the bandage was supposed to make scars fade to near-invisibility within two weeks. Today was the tail-end of the second week, but she still had a day or two before she could take it off. It must have sucked not to have these bandages in the past; she couldn't imagine walking around with that scar on her wrist and not getting weird stares, or for the rude ones, questions about why she'd ever want to kill herself despite the protests of "no, it was an /accident/, really."

Dad had told her to say "fuck off" in so many words to the ones who asked. Papa still didn't understand why she was making such a big deal about the scar on her wrist; as far as he was concerned, /he/ could tell that Moira hadn't tried to kill herself just by how crooked the whole thing looked.

Then again, they didn't have to go back in public with their wrist all banged up. If Ethan and Sabrina hadn't backed her up, the professors would have dragged her to Counseling as soon as she walked in the door of their classrooms.

In the end they'd let her wear the bandage because she pointed out that even though they were in the middle of nowhere with White Sands, there were still /some/ people there during its off-season. And they'd probably give her funny looks. The wristband hid the bandage well, and by the time it'd done its work, whatever was left wouldn't even be all that noticeable. She could live with that.

Moira heard someone calling downstairs. She pushed the door open halfway and peeked outside.

"It's time for dinner! Duo wants you to come down and help!"

"Oh! Yeah, coming!" Dad was cooking burgers; she could smell them all the way up here now that the door was open.

Moira dashed downstairs to set the table; she was so hungry that she'd have eaten the patties raw if she could get away with it.

"Hey, listen to that," Duo said, sitting up in the bed. Heero wondered how he could still want to do that after all that driving, topped off by sex as soon as both of them headed into their bedroom. He'd been ready to call it a night, roll over and go to sleep when Duo had started talking.

"What?" he yawned.

"It's quiet," Duo said. He sounded awed.

"Duo, that's because it's nighttime and everybody else is sleeping, which is something you should do too." Heero really wanted to move away from Duo right now; it was warmer here at the beach and it wasn't helping him feel any less sweaty or sticky. He'd take a shower, but right now, he was too tired and falling asleep in the tub was a possibility that was all too real at this point.

"It's never this quiet at home, though," Duo mused thoughtfully. "You hear things, like running machinery or the house doing system checks. And here, it's so...nice. There's nothing to listen to." He was staring out the window like a little boy on Christmas Eve.

"What's your point?" A post-sex conversation wasn't what Heero wanted right now; he didn't mind them, normally, but there was a time and a place for that sort of thing, and it wasn't now. The sooner Duo said what he wanted to say, the better.

Duo didn't say anything, only kept staring out the window. At first, Heero thought that was the end of it and rolled onto his side, but then Duo said, "It's amazing how even when you try to go to bed at night someplace else, you're still reminded that it's not home."

Heero snorted. "Of course it's not home. Isn't that why you wanted to come here?" He wiggled, trying to untangle the sheets wound around his body, and got both of his legs free before Duo spoke up again.

"Yeah, I did. Now that we're here, though, I'm reminded of how it's /not/ home. Just because I want to come here doesn't mean I want to stay," Duo said, leaning back from the window. "It's different."

"What if we move?"

"Huh." Duo was quiet. "Well, in the end you get used to wherever you finally wind up, eventually. I never thought I'd get used to Earth after moving from L2, but now I can't think about living anywhere else." He drew up both knees, resting the heels of his hands on them. "I guess coming here reminds me of that again."

"Mmmm." Heero rolled over onto his side, away from Duo.

"I wonder how that happens, how you can move from place to place and still find a home. There's got to be something more to it than only having shelter, you know?" When Heero didn't answer, Duo prodded him with a foot. "Hey, are you listening?"

"Duo, I want to sleep. So should you." Heero scooted to the edge of the bed and shut his eyes.

"Fine, but think about it." He heard Duo slide under the sheets, roll over, and then start snoring within minutes. Of course Duo was tired, but sometimes it wasn't clear to anyone until he was told to rest.

Much as Heero didn't want to admit it, the questions Duo asked about home bothered him. He didn't have the answers, and for some reason, he felt as if he should. Before he followed Duo into sleep, he decided that he'd give the matter some thought and see if he couldn't come up with anything by the time they had to leave.

In the morning, Heero wasn't any closer to figuring anything out. He'd woken to find the bed empty, still slightly warm where Duo had been. In fact, the rest of the house was empty; the dining room table had two notes on its surface. The first one read, "Out canoeing. Be back in time for lunch," in Duo's familiar scrawl, and the second had, "Taking pictures outside," followed by an "—M."

So Heero decided to go sit out on the beach with a book he'd borrowed on his last trip to the library. Unfortunately, he only managed to get through the first twenty pages before he realized that he hadn't been paying attention to the story whatsoever. Duo's questions stayed in his mind like a bug bite he couldn't scratch.

He should know; after all, hadn't he moved, if not in space, in time? The same place looked entirely different after six and a half decades had gone by, it was so different from what he was accustomed to. And yet he'd managed to settle in okay. It hadn't been smooth—some things one couldn't really pick up where they'd been left off—but the transition /had/ been made, and Heero was getting used to living in AC 262.

That was probably the simple answer, Heero thought. He could tell Duo that he gradually got used to things, grew familiar with them, so in the end, for him, he just needed time to get used to the new surroundings. But that was an incomplete answer, since he still wasn't too used to where he was, but nevertheless, wasn't too much the worse for wear. Duo's questions usually demanded complete answers. Not that Duo wouldn't be satisfied with answers missing things here and there, but Heero didn't like doing that.

Duo was probably what had helped him the most, simply because he was the only recognizable person Heero saw when he woke up. Having Duo gave the entire place a context he could understand. Still, it couldn't have been all Duo. Otherwise, what would happen if, and when, Duo died before he did? Maybe by then, this time frame wouldn't feel so alien, or there'd be other familiar people, places and things in Duo's place.

He saw a lone figure walking near the water's edge. As it came closer, he recognized Moira's confident swagger, along with the gentle sway of her hair. She had her camera in her hands, stopping every now and then to fiddle with the controls before shooting. Sometimes she crouched down, taking pictures of what looked like the water or some rocks before going on her way. After some time, she caught sight of Heero and ran towards him.

"Hey," she said, "I thought you'd be out with Dad."

"Duo's out canoeing on the lake," Heero replied, shutting his book. "You didn't know?"

A shake of the head. "Nope. He was still asleep when I went out." She crouched down next to Heero, bare toes digging in the sand. "What's that?" she asked, pointing to the book cover. "You reading a novel?"

He nodded. "How early did you get up today?"

"Probably around six or so. You gotta get up early if you want good pictures." Moira pressed a button on her camera and the image on the LCD screen—currently showing a picture of a rock formation near the water—changed into one of a sunrise over the lake. The emphasis was on the sky, as it took up most of the picture, with the water added as an afterthought. The following image was of the water and its reflection of the sky on the surface. Moira then looked up at Heero, cocking an eyebrow as if to say, "see?"

There was that knowing look in her eyes again. It'd appeared every so often since they'd smoothed things over in December, some sort of wisdom that only she possessed. It was as if she couldn't be completely touched or understood. She was in a completely different world from his own, one that Heero would not have much opportunity to enter. It bothered him a bit; that even though he knew so much about science and nature, he'd never have the knowledge that one gained simply by growing up normally.

Well, she was the one in the family that was the most normal. Of course, the whole thing was now far from normal now that Heero was here.

"Moira," he asked, "how do you feel about having me here?"

She glanced up at him, confused. "What?"

"I mean...you don't think it's weird having me here like this?" Heero gestured towards himself.

"Oh, oh," Moira said, immediately understanding. She tilted her head from side to side, thinking.

"You know what?" she finally said, cocking her head in Heero's direction, "yeah, it was, at first. Especially because you weren't /anything/ like what I'd originally thought. I didn't think we'd hit so many snags, and that's probably why it took so long for us to actually coexist without killing each other."

"Is that it?"

She laughed. "Well, that, and at first, I was taller than you. But now, I think it's normal. Nothing /too/ out of the ordinary." She settled further back onto her heels, letting her toes come out of the damp sand.

"Even though we're around the same age?" Heero pointed at himself and then at Moira. He'd found it disconcerting, to say the least; never mind what Duo said about getting to know her as a person, having a daughter the same age he was took a lot of getting used to. Every now and then he'd see Duo in the way Moira walked with a swagger, or how she lifted her chin when she looked over her shoulder. As for himself, there were times where her facial expressions were so similar to his own it felt like peering into a mirror.

Some would say Heero was lucky to see how she finally turned out, but he'd rather have seen her grow into her personality instead. This was jarring.

"You don't act eighteen," Moira said, matter-of-factly. "I should know. Eighteen-year-old guys don't act the way you do; usually they're busy drawing dicks on each other's doors if they're not getting drunk and puking on the stairs. That's the way they are, for the most part." She flipped a hand palm up, as if to say, "nothing to do about it."

"I think you act Dad's age," she continued. "And if you weren't Papa, that'd be really screwed up, but you are, so...yeah. It makes more sense." Moira nodded emphatically. "I like it better this way, you know? So, to answer your original question, it's not so weird at all. Or if it is, I don't really care."

She rose to her feet, brushing off her capris. Heero noticed that she no longer wore the little purple wristband. The scar on her wrist had disappeared, leaving behind a faint line to indicate that she'd ever been cut in the first place. As Moira stretched her arms above her head, Heero once again realized how much he missed her growing up. Sometimes, he envied her; though she wasn't nearly as smart as himself or Duo, she'd had a normal childhood compared to both of them.

She'd probably never wondered about moving away, since she and Duo had stayed in the same house, it was never an issue to her.

"What if we moved?" Heero asked, deliberately not looking into her face. The tops of her feet were pale and bony, with the tendons rippling underneath her skin as she wiggled her toes. Every time he saw Moira, she was always in motion.

"...now, why would we ever do that? There's no reason," Moira said, confused. "Are we going to?"

Heero shook his head. Moira sighed in relief. "Geez, don't scare me like that, okay? I wasn't planning on moving out until I graduated Blair. I think I'd be old enough then."

"That soon?" Heero was incredulous. The idea of her even leaving the house was such a foreign concept; he couldn't imagine her ever wanting to live away from them at this point.

Moira shrugged casually. "I'd be nineteen once I graduate; that's about time to get an apartment nearby and start working, right? Assuming I can get a job and stuff." She looked off into the distance, hands on her hips. "You can't tell how the job market will be in three or four years. That's such a long time away..."

Heero decided she was right about him being mentally older than eighteen; for him, three or four years was nothing after having been asleep for much longer. But for Moira and her classmates, that was an eternity or two; the awe in her voice told Heero that while she could plan for it, it was farther away than the other side of the lake.

"You don't have to leave right away if you don't want to," he blurted out. "There's no hurry." When all Moira did was throw him a confused look, he explained, "You'll still be young when you graduate, so it's not like you should feel obligated to move out."

"I wouldn't be moving far away. Well, not if I could help it. But I'd like a place of my own. That'd be /awesome/," Moira said. "I gotta grow up /sometime/."

"Even if you move farther away, you'd come back home every now and then, right?" The idea of Moira moving away and not returning was an idea he didn't like very much.

Moira stared at him, confused, for a few seconds before her eyes widened in realization. "Yeah, sure. I wouldn't be too far away anyhow; just in an apartment or something. What, you think I wanted to leave you and Dad that much? Jesus." She laughed. "I couldn't do that. My friends jump up and down every time they get to go back home for vacation. Some people say it's for the better food, but I dunno."

"Four years isn't as long as you think," Heero muttered.

Moira nodded. "Maybe not. I just can't see myself that far ahead in time."

After dinner the next night, Moira took out her guitar and went on the porch. She'd missed it a lot; since she started classes at Blair, she hadn't had time to play much.

She hoped her skills weren't rusty. Even the guitar pick felt a bit disused in her hand. But a few practice chords told her that there weren't any problems. There was a song that she'd been practicing last time; hopefully, she wouldn't need the tablature, because she hadn't brought them here, and also, except for the lone candle she'd taken out with her, the lighting sucked anyway.

Closing her eyes, Moira began to play. This was a bit hard, since the guitar she had came without strings. Instead, they were replaced by a series of lasers that would make the appropriate sound whenever the pick was strummed across. It was a good idea; the settings could be adjusted for either acoustic or electric sound output, and it saved a lot in case a string broke.

Then again, guitars with strings nowadays were viewed as antiques. They were in museums, most of the time.

The door creaked open. "Hey, you," she heard Dad say. "What're you doing out here?"

"Playin' something." She heard an "ahh" from Dad as he plopped down next to her on the porch.

"No words?" Dad asked. Moira cracked one eye open; he was sitting on the porch, leaning back on his hands. She shook her head.

"That's too bad. I liked that song you used to play all the time last year. What was it called?" Dad hummed a few bars, making her remember how good his voice was. He didn't sing much, but when he did, often Moira thought the world had lost a good singer.

"Oh...that one. 'Flowers in the Window.'" Moira strummed the introductory chords, singing, "When I first held you I was cold, a melting snowman I was told...but there was no one else to hold, before I swore that I would be alone forevermore..."

Dad joined in with the chorus, "Oh, wow, look at you now, flowers in the window, it's such a lovely day, and I hope you feel the same...'cause to stand up, out in the crowd, you are one in a million, and I love you so, let's watch the flowers grow..."

This was an easier song; practicing it or listening to the mp3 nonstop had paid off. Of course Dad would have memorized the lyrics; he'd had to put up with Moira singing or humming the tune all the time when she wasn't attached to the guitar. But it was a good song; made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside and damn glad to be alive, so it didn't look like he minded.

"So now we're here and now is fine, so far away from there and there is time time time...to plant new seeds and watch them grow, so there'll be flo-wers in the win-dow when we go..."

When they finished singing, Dad looked back at her fondly. "You're getting good with that guitar, hon."

Moira smiled. "Glad to hear that. When I move out, I want to take it with me."

He laughed out loud. "Oh, geez, that's not going to be for a while. Why are you thinking about that?"

Moira could barely make out the outline of the porch in the candlelight; in fact, she could only see a bit of what Dad was wearing; the plaid of his favorite flannel shirt and some old jeans. A wave of nostalgia overcame her; it felt like this moment was from a long time ago, and the feeling wrapped itself around her like a favorite shirt.

"I dunno," she said, after watching the way the light changed the way Dad's clothes looked for a few seconds. "I just figured that it'd happen eventually, right? I can't live with you guys forever, right? Still," she mused, "Papa really freaked out when I mentioned getting my own place. Even though it's four years away. That's still a long way off, isn't it?"

Dad frowned thoughtfully. "Well...I don't know how to put it, but when you get older, time gets shorter." He drummed his fingers on his knee. "Hmmm. That's what I'd think, at least. After you get to be about my age, four years isn't /that/ long at all. So for both of us—that is, your papa and I—you'll be moving out pretty soon. If anything, Papa's probably freaked because he just got here and you're gonna be on your way out soon."

Idly plucking at her guitar, Moira said, "Huh. Didn't think about it like that. What's he so worried about? Even though I'd go, it's not like I wouldn't come back or anything to visit or hang out, right?"

"Why's that? I thought for the first month you'd be so thrilled to be in your own place that you'd have to be pried out," Dad said, grinning. "That was me for a while. Ah, good times."

Moira shrugged. "I'd still be in the same city, I think, so I want to at least come back once a week. That way I can still see you two. Until I get settled in." She idly kicked at the porch steps, listening to her heels thump on the wood.

"Can't stand to leave us for good, can you?" Dad said fondly.

Moira let her heels clomp six more times on the steps before saying, "It's not home without you, and after a while, it probably won't be home without Papa. I guess what I'm trying to say is that home's where you two are, and I'll always need to come back."

She felt Dad's strong hands on her shoulders, massaging them. "You know you'll always be able to come back to us whenever you want, hon. Whenever you want."

They stayed like that, quiet, with Dad kneading her shoulders, until the candle burned low.

"Check that out. You're her pillow now," Duo said, poking the fire on the sand with a stick.

Every time he and Moira had gone to White Sands, Duo would make a bonfire on the last night. This time was no exception. It burned brightly, throwing orange-yellow light on all three of them, providing a lot of warmth for the chilly March weather.

"My legs are getting numb," Heero grumbled. Moira was currently sleeping on his lap, her arms draped across his knees. They'd made the fire at ten in the evening, and now it was probably around two in the morning. Duo checked his watch; it read 2:09.

"We've been out here for a while," he said. "You wanna go back in or what? We don't have to leave till lunch or so tomorrow."

Heero shook his head. "That's okay." He paused, staring into the flames. "By the way, I've thought about that question you asked the first night we came here."

"Huh?" Duo looked up from the stick he was using to poke the wood underneath. "Oh, that one. What about it?"

"I couldn't find a straight answer. It bothers me a lot. I should be able to give you one. Even though I didn't move in space, moving in time is the same, so...I don't know." He ran his fingers over Moira's back; she was so sound asleep that she didn't even stir. "I thought about it the entire time we were here, but I'm still at the same place."

Duo laughed. "Man, I can't believe you'd think about something like that all throughout our time here. I'm sorry. I meant for you to keep it in mind, but not like that." He scooted over next to Heero. "It's okay. But now that you mention it, someone here mentioned her plans to move out after graduation." He nodded towards Moira.

"I told her four years wasn't a long time," Heero said softly. "She didn't believe me."

Duo snorted. "Eh. She's young. Even a month seems like forever to people like her. And she said that she'd come back and visit a lot, right? That's what she told me." He buried his hand up to the wrist in the cool sand.

"It won't be the same," Heero said. "I can't imagine the three of us ever being separated."

"Separated /how/? Heero, it's not like you'll never see her again." Duo affectionately rubbed his arm.

Heero said nothing for a while, but instead looked down, stroking the space between Moira's shoulder blades in small circles. Then, he said, "I love both of you so much."

All Duo could think of to say was, "Oh." He felt dumb, possibly insensitive for only being able to say that, but anything more seemed hopelessly inadequate.

An overwhelming feeling of joy came upon him, as he realized just how much of a lucky bastard he was. As far as Duo was concerned, he wanted this night to last forever.


	11. Chapter 11

True North

Chapter 11

Pairing: 2x1

Category: AU

Warnings: OC kid

Gundam Wing copyright Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. "Eien no Rhapsody" copyright Midori Saiha/Ringo Zaidan.

Thanks to Diamroyal for beta-reading!

"For God's sake, Heero, get to bed already," Duo said, exasperated. "You've got a week left before the exam. There's no need to be studying this obsessively." He stood in the hallway, ponytail rumpled, blinking owlishly in the light.

The clock read a quarter to one. It /was/ late, but Heero had two more subjects to go over before sleep was anywhere on his agenda. Besides, he didn't need to be anywhere the next day, so sleeping in wasn't a big deal.

Duo, however, wouldn't have any of it. He walked over to the table, picked up a few books and started stacking them up. "Not a word out of you," he said firmly, just as Heero began to protest. "You," Duo jabbed a finger at his chest, "have been doing this since after dinner for three or four days. It's Saturday now, and if this keeps up, you will not have a chance in hell of passing. You need to give yourself time to rest, and as of right now, you've got ten minutes to get in bed."

"I'm not even done for today," Heero muttered.

"Tough." Duo turned on his heel, carrying the stack of books down the hall. "Bed. Now. We'll start teaching you better study skills tomorrow."

Heero sighed inwardly; there was so much he had yet to review, and a week didn't seem like enough time. Duo was right, though; if he didn't give himself enough rest, anything he studied would be wasted.

One pitfall of being a prodigy was the lack of any practical knowledge for studying, he thought, trudging obediently after Duo, though how Duo knew anything about studying he hadn't the faintest idea.

He yawned, and then realized that he was, in fact, extremely tired. Sleep sounded like a good idea right now. Tomorrow, though, he'd be back to the books, papers and mock exams.

Without bothering to get undressed, Heero fell into bed and was asleep within seconds.

It turned out that Duo wasn't the one with the expertise for study. That, in fact, was Moira's jurisdiction. It made sense, actually, if Heero gave it some thought; after all, she'd been in an environment that had exams on a regular basis.

And now, Moira was gaping at him after he'd described to her how he'd been preparing for the recertification exam. Since it was April and nearing final exams for her, she had spent most of her time in Blair's library.

"That's /not/ how to go about it. That is /so/ not the way how to go about it," she said. "Gotta hand it to you for your mental stamina, but Jesus Christ, you're gonna burn out at that rate." She shook her head, her braids swaying side-to-side as she did so.

"So why do you stay in the library for so long then?" Heero asked.

"I take breaks every now and then." Moira took a sip of her juice. "You have to. Otherwise you go crazy. Also, it lets the info settle in your mind a bit better." Her fingers drummed onto the table. "What you need to do, I think, is study for thirty minutes and then take a five or ten minute break before going back. I know it doesn't sound logical, but it really works."

"Really?"

"Yes," Moira said, "really. And that's only the beginning. Start making flashcards for the vocabulary on the exam. You're already taking notes on the papers you've printed out from the library, right? Read those, and /only/ those from this day forward. Are you writing mock essays yet?"

Heero shook his head.

"Then you're starting today." A melody with high-pitched vocals played, and Moira pulled out her cell phone. "Hold on, it's Heather," she said, pressing the talk button. "Whaddya want, 'ho?...whoa, /whoa/, hold on. I can barely understand you...he /what/? Oh, oh no he /didn't/...fuck. Fuck! /Fuck/!"

"Language," Heero said matter-of-factly.

"I'mma kick his bitch-ass! Shit! It's due Monday, and he /forgot/ his data?" Moira slammed a hand on the table with a sharp crack. "Fuck that. So what do we do now?...uh-huh...I don't think he's /that/ sorry, but he will be after I'm done beating his ass. Fuck! Shit! God/damn/!"

"Language," Heero repeated.

"Wait a minute," Moira said, and then, to Heero, "One of our group members screwed up horribly on a project that is twenty-five percent of our final grade. I think I'm allowed to swear." Before he could reply, she went back to the phone. "Okay...yeah, I can make it. I'll be right there. How long do you think it'll take?...what? Oh, now I am /so/ ready to make sure Kevin doesn't have children...all right. I'm going now. Later."

"Damage control?" Heero asked, turning back to the paper he'd been reading before talking with Moira. She made an affirmative noise.

"I /might/ come back for dinner, if not, I'll call. By the way, I wouldn't stay up too late studying if I were you," she said, getting up from her chair. "Let me know how it goes. I'm out."

With that, Moira was gone. That was good; it was after lunch and Heero was even more behind schedule than he'd anticipated. Never mind that he truly didn't want to stay up late; now, implementing the new study skills, there wasn't much of a choice. Duo wouldn't be happy, of course. Still, how was he going to pass otherwise?

Around eleven twenty-five at night, Duo came downstairs, already dressed in his T-shirt and pajama bottoms.

"Baby, come to bed already. It's so cold without you," he pleaded, kneading Heero's shoulders.

"Not yet." He hadn't realized he was so tense; Duo was really working out those knots. "There's more to do." All Duo did was keep massaging.

"You'll get it done later. Now get to bed."

Heero turned a page. "Give me fifteen more minutes." Reading the notes only helped a great deal; it cut down on time, and he was still able to remember the information. But he hadn't begun writing mock essays yet, and that had been saved for after he'd finished reading.

All of a sudden, Duo took his hands off. "All right. Guess I can't convince you," he said. "I'll go up first and see if I can't warm up myself. Night."

"Night." That was weird, Heero thought; usually Duo protested so much that he had to pry his hands off so that he could get back to his studying. Maybe Duo had decided there wasn't any point in arguing anymore, since the exam wasn't so far away and by the end of next week, he wouldn't have to study anymore.

There was enough time to start an outline for one of the essay questions. Moira had been ambivalent about that; the way she'd normally operated, she said, was to put the pencil to paper and start writing, since she usually knew what she wanted to write by the time she finished reading the question. It'd worked for her, but many others—Heero included—preferred writing an outline first to get their thoughts organized.

He'd only begun writing the main ideas to be touched upon when the lights all shut off at once, leaving him in pitch black darkness. Even the clock wasn't on, and for a moment, he wondered if there was a blackout. But the neighbors next door seemed unaffected.

Heero then realized why Duo had given up so quickly. All the lights in the house were rigged to shut off and stay that way, as nothing responded to his vocal commands. It couldn't have been Duo who'd done the actual handiwork, though; that meant that Moira was in on it too.

He was about to yell at Duo that they could have told him instead of pulling something like this, but then he realized something else; Moira had casually told him to not stay up too late, and Duo had asked him to come to bed.

Heero groaned and trudged in defeat towards the bedroom. He wanted to strangle both of them, especially now that he'd reached the doorway, where Duo was cocooned in a mound of blankets. He momentarily shifted in the bed to peer at Heero.

"Finished already?" Duo asked groggily. Heero gritted his teeth; he could detect a note of smugness in his voice.

"Shut up and go back to sleep, Duo," he growled.

There was no sympathy from Moira, as Heero found out the next day.

"Yeah, I tinkered with the lights to go off around eleven-thirty," she said airily. "Dad said he'd get that new processor chip for me if I did it."

"Duo /bribed/ you?" Heero asked, incredulous.

"Well...okay, yeah. Somewhat, but he had a point, y'know." She typed something into her laptop. "If you kept going like that, you'd be worn out by the time the exam came around. 'sides," she arched an eyebrow at Heero, brushing her messy bangs out of the way, "telling you to rest failed spectacularly. What else could we do?"

She turned back to her laptop to resume typing. Heero did not know what to say for a while, and then realized that she was right; they'd told him last night, and Duo had kept telling him before that on a constant basis.

Even so, it didn't make last night any less frustrating.

"I can't believe he did that," he muttered. Moira shrugged.

"That was the main thing. Oh, that reminds me. Exam's next Saturday, right?"

Heero nodded. A sly grin spread over the girl's face. It was an expression he didn't like.

"Okay. Friday night at nine, you're not studying anything anymore. You'll be watching TV with Dad and me, which is good, because that's the day /Queer Eye: Earth-Colony Edition/ will be showing." Moira leaned back in her chair, wearing an incredibly smug grin.

He shook his head. "We're not watching that."

"Not your choice. That was a bonus I got for the lights; I got to pick the TV show we watch on Friday, and frankly, would you rather watch MTV Classic? Because they're showing /The Real World: The Shit They Should Have Shown/ marathon that same night, and I think every single episode features the desecration of a corpse in some way." The last sentence was spoken in a flat, clinical tone of voice while she gave Heero an innocent, wide-eyed stare.

Heero never thought she was ever capable of looking that sweet. It disturbed him a great deal. That, and the idea of watching a program where people who were older than himself couldn't understand that rigor mortis and sea burials were not a good combination.

"You /know/ not all gay people are like the ones on /Queer Eye,/" he said. Heero hadn't seen the show for himself—he'd only heard what Duo had told him, and from that alone, it didn't sound like a program he'd be too interested in watching, or, as Duo put it, "it's a show that's God's gift to the straight female population, not us."

"Oh, I know. If they were, I wouldn't have to watch it, would I?" she said sweetly. "They've got Zechs Merquise for hair and grooming this time, and he's my favorite on the Earth edition. Anyway, don't you have an exam to study for?"

He glared at her, but she didn't even blink. Finally, he sighed and stalked off, Moira's sarcastic "Yeah, I thought so," following him.

Four days before the exam, Heero started taking the practice tests from the past three years and scoring himself afterwards. Duo and Moira's suggestions worked; so far, all the results on the practice tests put him well into the "qualified for certification" area.

The exam consisted of two parts, taking up about three and a half hours: first was the multiple-choice section and the second was the essay. He could score himself on the multiple-choice, but for the essay, he looked to Duo for help.

"I'll be damned," Duo said, after he'd graded the latest essay. "I can't find /anything/ wrong with this one, and that's when I'm being obsessively nitpicky. You're going to pass, Heero, so I don't see why you're so worried all the time. At this rate, you could stop studying now if you wanted."

Heero snorted. "Sure, but is it worth the risk?" He didn't want to walk into the exam only to find out that he couldn't remember important information for either part. All Duo did was laugh.

"What risk?" He gestured towards the essay. "Your recertification's practically in the bag. If you want to keep studying, sure, do it, but for an hour at most. Clearly, the info's not going anywhere for the next day or two. Remember, Friday, you're not allowed to study after nine at night."

Heero groaned. "Did you have to let her pick what we were going to watch?"

Duo shrugged, putting the essay paper on the table and leaning back. "I told her to rig the lights by Sunday night and she had it done early Saturday morning. So I threw it in as a bonus. It could have been worse; we could be watching /Buddy Cole's Back Door Man Love Hour/. Now that show's real popular among girls her age."

Heero grimaced: he'd accidentally seen that when he'd still been mastering the eye controls of the TV set. What he'd seen could be considered soft-core porn, with a few dramatic scenes thrown in for plot and possibly an opportunity for the characters to be fully dressed.

"Do all girls watch this sort of thing?" he asked. Duo chuckled and got up out of his chair.

"Ah, it's just a phase." Heero watched him open up the fridge and rummage around. "She might settle down once she gets a boyfriend of her own. When she was nine or ten, just before she got skipped up to high school, she had this little game called Cops: Bike Edition, right? She used that as an excuse to mow down the kids who took her lunch money on the playground. Didn't stop until I took away the bike for a month." He emerged with a carton of orange juice and went to the cupboard for a glass.

"Then there was the 'talk in a Scottish accent whenever possible' phase. That one just died out on its own...I think that was age twelve." Duo turned from the cupboard, glass in hand, and set it down onto the counter. "Wasn't that troublesome, though that same year she got into girls' football, and /that/ was fucking frightening. Gave as good as she got, but I took her out next year because I was afraid there'd be a game where all that'd be left of her would be hair and bone fragments."

He poured the glass full and took a sip. "Don't get me wrong, she can be vicious; there were games where she was downright nasty, but I got freaked out 'cause compared to the other girls on that team, she's tiny."

Heero frowned. "What does this have to do with her wanting to watch that show on Friday?"

Duo opened his mouth to answer when they both heard the door slide open and Moira staggered into the kitchen, wearing a silly grin and a glittery pink feather boa wrapped around her shoulders. She stood there swaying for a few seconds before uttering, "Heeeeeey."

"What the hell did you /do/?" Duo asked. "I thought you guys were working on that project."

Moira held up one finger, batting away the feather boa with her other hand. "Well, we /were/ doing that, but we got done, so we went out to uh...celebrate. Yeah. And it was drag queen night at this place, and we went anyway because it was the only one that wasn't too crowded."

"Are you drunk?" Heero asked, suspicious. At that, Moira shook her head so rapidly her hair was hitting her face.

"No, but the others are. When I left, I think Kevin was walking into the wall again and again...I've got a movie on my camera if you want to see—"

"That's fine," Duo said quickly. "You look pretty beat, kid, and there's class tomorrow. Better get to bed." He gently shoved her towards the stairs. "Scoot, scoot."

After she'd left, Heero raised an eyebrow at Duo. "I suppose that's another phase of hers."

Duo took a deeper drink from his glass. "Yeah, I guess. Hopefully she'll grow out of it by the time she reaches thirty."

/Queer Eye,/ Heero decided, was one of the dumbest shows he'd ever had the misfortune to watch, and he'd only seen the opening credits.

But considering the opening credits had Otto, the one in charge of fashion, twirling and skipping with no less than three shopping bags on each elbow with a small fluffy poodle trotting at his heels, it didn't take much to tell that it was going to be an extremely long hour of television.

If he hadn't been flanked by Duo and Moira on each side, he'd have gotten up, taken a book from the shelf and gone to read in the dining room, but when he'd tried to get up to go to the bathroom, Moira sat on his legs and wouldn't budge. He'd had to get Duo to help pry her off.

Now Zechs Merquise was inspecting the bathroom of this episode's straight man. The camera zoomed in on the bathtub, which had a distinct ring around the inside.

"Oh, this guy is gross," Zechs muttered, as the camera zoomed in further, displaying a crude stick drawing scratched in the dirt.

"Ewwww," Moira squealed. "I wonder what his /toilet/ looks like."

"It's probably just as bad as the kitchen," Duo said. "Yeesh. 'The dishwasher's broken!' is not a good excuse! Get it fixed, man. He's just fucking lazy. Those dishes have been in there forever; no wonder they all got knocked back by the smell."

Moira made a disgusted noise and shuddered. "That's sick."

Now, while Otto pranced around the house wearing one of the man's ponchos, Zechs ran his hands through the man's greasy hair. "Ugh, how often do you wash this, Justin?"

"Uh...I guess once a week. I dunno. I use the shampoo Lisa gave me."

Zechs immediately whisked his hands out of Justin's hair and stalked off, returning with a bottle of shampoo. "For dry/damaged hair," he read. "Dude. Your hair is not dry. You could probably lubricate an entire spaceship with what's in it now. First we need to get it cut /properly/, and then we're going to look at the products /you/ need and not your girlfriend."

"But first, we're going to go shopping for clothes!" Otto chirped, popping up wearing a long blonde wig along with the poncho.

"Aw, that's just wrong. Now he's trying to be Zechs," Moira said. "Except /not/, because Zechs has prettier hair and stuff." She shifted on the couch, putting her stockinged feet up on the coffee table. One thing Heero had noticed in the ten months he'd lived with her; she never wore, or even seemed to own, white socks. They were always striped, gray, or black. Duo had a mix of white and black.

It was amazing how knowing small, inconsequential things like that made him feel...well, good, for lack of a better word.

The screen switched to commercial break, and Duo got up and stretched. "I think I'll get something to drink," he said. "You guys want anything?"

Heero shook his head while Moira said, "Juice! The usual!"

Duo grinned, reaching over and patting the girl's head. "It's always white cranberry with you, isn't it? No UTIs in your future," he said, turning around and going for the kitchen.

"Isn't this show great?" Moira asked. "Zechs is so hot."

Heero shrugged. "It's a dumb show. The problem with Justin is that he's lacking in any common sense. He doesn't need those five yet; nobody should have to be told to wash his or her own dishes or to keep a clean house."

Before Moira could reply, the sound byte of a very irritated woman snapping, "What the fuck you doing? What the fuck you doing? What the fuck you doing?" over and over played at a loud volume. Moira groaned.

"Great, it's Kevin. Let me take this. Hello?" Moira rose from the couch. "What did I tell you about selecting that ringtone for my cell? No, dude, being /drunk/ is not an excuse. You used that for tossing me in the goat pen on our last project...what do you mean, you don't remember? You've got a fucking movie on your camera! So, what's up?"

She paused, half-listening, half looking at the screen, which was showing a commercial for the upcoming movie, /The Buttsex Musical/.

"Oooh, I'm seeing that," she murmured.

"No you're not," Heero said. The movie preview looked even worse than /Queer Eye/, mainly because the selling point of the film was the gratuitous use of the word "buttsex." Even Duo would have found it tiring after one and a half hours, but the audience would probably emerge from the theater using that word at least three times per sentence, and Heero was not going to suffer that.

All Moira did was wave him off and return to her call. "What? They're posted already? And Lucas did so badly he got wasted?...oh, let me listen. Wow. 'Who's that boy and why is he wearing girl's clothes?' at the mirror. That's /wasted/. Okay, look, is that all you wanted to say? Because we're having quality time by watching /Queer Eye/. Oh, and don't ever use that ringtone again or I'll find some way to get your drunk soundbytes as mine. You know I can do it, bitch. Later."

She hung up and plopped down next to Heero once more. "I'm still seeing that movie," she said. "I think we're all planning to go after our Theoretical Physics final."

"The hell you will," Heero snapped, just as Duo came in with the drinks. "I'm not going to listen to you use the word 'buttsex' whenever you can for who knows how long."

Duo raised an eyebrow. "Honey, you know that's the only joke the movie's got, right? The boys in that are pretty ugly." He handed Moira her glass and sat down.

"Yeah, but I heard they've got some good people on the soundtrack," she said, taking a drink.

Duo shook his head. "What the hell kind of competent songwriter would write a song about buttsex? No, /don't/ answer that question," he said, as Moira opened her mouth, about to tick off her fingers.

The commercial break ended and the show came on again, with Otto leading Justin into a clothing store.

"/This/ is Steel, the men's line for Ken Pundik. I know he's more famous for all those dresses, but his menswear shouldn't be overlooked," Otto said, taking Justin by the elbow through the racks of jackets, shirts and pants.

"Oooh, Ken Pundik. His dresses are /pretty/," Moira sighed. "And he wears them too, and he looks prettier than /me/."

This was going to be a long hour, Heero thought. A very long one.

The next morning, Moira was gone, out studying yet again, but she'd left a note reading, "I won't say good luck because you don't need it. I know you'll pass."

Maybe that was the case, but it didn't stop Heero from taking out his notes and giving them a last-minute glance while Duo had been cooking them breakfast. Of course, as soon as Duo saw what he'd been doing, the notes had gone into the recycling bin, along with a stern reminder to Heero that he'd studied more than enough and a good breakfast was more important right now.

Now they were in the car, driving to the test site; Duo was going to buy groceries while Heero took the exam, and then they were going to call Moira and have lunch together at a small place Duo'd read about online.

"Nice weather today," Duo said. He flicked on the turn signal. "I think that's a good sign."

"Don't be superstitious," Heero replied. He'd had bad days even with sunshine and cloudless skies. Not that he didn't have confidence in himself for passing this, but he'd wanted to make sure.

The test site—Hutchins Auditorium—appeared after they'd turned left and gone down the street for about three blocks. It was an old looking brick building, covered here and there with ivy vines, managing to blend in with the surrounding cafes and shops.

Duo pulled up to the entrance. "You gonna be okay from here?" he said. "You're not gonna get lo—"

"Duo, there are /signs/," Heero said, cutting him off. "And I can always follow people into the room. Don't worry about it." He pushed the car door release button, gathering up his things.

"Fine, then." Duo pecked him on the cheek. "Call me when you're done, okay? And good luck, though you don't need it. Anything you want from the store?"

Heero shook his head as he stepped out.

"All right, then. See you in a few," Duo said, shutting the door.

After he entered the auditorium, Heero noticed that he was the youngest sitting in; everyone else—they couldn't have been more than forty or fifty total—looked like they were in their late twenties or mid-thirties. In fact, it could have been his imagination, but he thought he saw some of the others staring at him as they took their seats.

He remembered what Duo had said: "Eh, they're not going to care about how young you are. They're more concerned with how they're going to do on the exam."

The booklet in front of him looked reassuringly similar to all the practice tests he'd been looking at. At this point, it was only something to get over with; he either knew what was on the exam or he didn't. In fact, he'd even memorized the proctor's opening remarks.

He could do it. And then afterwards, he'd be able to go back to work, begin research with Duo on his new project, and he'd be fully back to where he was before he was put into coldsleep.

"...now, if there are no questions, you may now open your booklet and begin."


	12. Chapter 12

True North

Chapter 12

Pairing: 2x1

Category: AU

Warnings: OC kid

Gundam Wing copyright Bandai, Sunrise, and Sotsu Agency. "Eien no Rhapsody" copyright Midori Saiha/Ringo Zaidan. "Walking in the Sun" copyright Travis.

"Don't do anything by half. If you love someone, love them with all your soul. When you go to work, work your ass off. When you hate someone, hate them until it hurts." –Henry Rollins

Blair Institute's winter term had ended in May. Moira been looking forward to it, as it was yet another summer, and a month before she'd start work as Dr. Chang's research assistant.

Of course, whatever plans she'd had in mind were on hold, thanks to catching the flu. Now, lying in bed, she tried to remember the last time she'd /not/ gone to school due to sickness, and wound with an answer of four to five years ago. Once Dad had her transferred to high school, she couldn't afford to have the slightest cough. When that had happened, Dad had sent her to bed early for a few days, along with medicine, vitamin C, Echinacea and Nana's tea. Usually that was that; by the end of the week she'd be fine again.

Being sick sucked. It felt like everywhere hurt; not like she'd been thrown into a wall, but aching in places she didn't even know could hurt. Even the distractions on her laptop weren't helping, and it felt like she needed three more cough drops again. And this was considered "better," because for the first two days she'd been moaning "Let me /die/," if she wasn't asleep.

She reached over on her desk for the mug of tea Papa had put nearby and cautiously took a sip. He'd added ginger along with the lemon and honey Nana had always put in, and the sting was still taking some getting used to. It /did/ make her feel better, though. Then again, that could also be because she took a shower, and felt clean.

Getting the flu was her own fault—she knew that much—thanks to riding her bike in the rain from her old high school. Moira had forgotten to check the weather report on her phone before she'd left, so when she'd finished speaking to Miss Bloom about getting to use the photography equipment, it'd been pissing down rain, and her house was a twenty-minute ride away on her bike.

As soon as she walked inside, Papa had taken a glance at her and went upstairs, only to return with the largest towel in their house and start roughly drying her from top to bottom. He'd started to scold her about not checking the weather, but after she'd sneezed the scolding was put off and she found herself being pushed towards the bathroom for a shower.

That had been a week or so ago. Today was the fifth day she was sick, and her fever wasn't going down any time soon; Dad had said so, and if anything, Papa's constant temperature checks were showing the same number over and over.

The timer's bright, tinkling chime sounded from downstairs, followed by Papa's footsteps. She checked the clock on her laptop—he'd been upstairs about a half hour ago for the tea. Why didn't he check her temperature then?

But no, here he was, in the doorway, liquid crystal thermometer strip in hand.

"I don't think it's gonna be any different," she said.

Papa ignored her, going over to the bed, sitting down and pushing up her bangs. She felt the cool plastic of the strip over her forehead and waited.

Finally, he peeled the strip off. "No change," he finally said. "I'll give you something cold to drink once you're finished with that." He nodded towards the mug of tea. "Why don't you take a nap or something? You've been at your laptop since you've woken up."

"I don't feel tired," Moira said, "I feel like I've been jumped by rabid monkeys. And that's not the same."

"You're not going to get better if you don't rest." Papa lifted up one of her braids. "This needs to be redone."

"Huh?"

"Some of it's coming apart," he said, taking the end and unwrapping the elastic.

She shrugged, turning back to the picture on her monitor. Before she'd gotten sick, she'd pulled down some of the old disks Nana had given her to show her pictures of Papa. The one she was currently looking at was dated October 13th, AC 196, so she couldn't have been more than four months old. This one was a close, tight shot of both her and Papa lying on the floor—only his head and arm were visible in the picture—positioned opposite and upside down. A bright plastic rattle and some other toys lay scattered around the towel they were both laying on, but they weren't the focus of the photo.

In the picture, they were both facing each other, while Papa's arm had reached around to cup her head, his fingers barely touching it.

Why she hadn't noticed this one before, she didn't know. Maybe it was because she knew him better now—after all, it'd been almost a year.

That was one of the reasons she'd gotten the disks, not to mention asking to use the high school's photo equipment. Next month would be the one year mark of Papa's revival from coldsleep. Also, it'd be her birthday, but this was almost a birthday gift to herself, so that was okay.

The disks were for ideas. Moira could print out the old photos, but it wouldn't be as fun, so she was going to take new ones. If this was going to be a success, she needed to pull this off without either Dad or Papa knowing about it.

That was fine. She liked challenges, and already, she could see some ideas in her mind's eye, staring mindlessly at the photograph on her screen.

She felt Papa nudging her shoulder. "Turn around," he said. "I need to do the other one." He touched her cheek briefly with the back of his hand, frowning. "I don't like this. After I'm done, I'm going to get you some ice water."

Moira absentmindedly obeyed, humming snatches of an old song she couldn't remember the name of. If she got better tomorrow, she could start.

"Why are you downstairs?" Papa asked the next day, glancing up from his book. "You're supposed to be in bed."

Moira shrugged. "I feel /better/," she said. "I want to move around. Oh, and in the future, I'll nap when I want to. Last time anybody told me to take a nap I was five." She pressed the power button on the camera in her hands, and it came to life with its familiar tinkling melody. Another button took her to the focal length menu, and she chose "85-105 mm"; she'd need to get in close for this, and the default setting of fifty millimeters wasn't good enough.

Papa ignored her comment. "Relena was here earlier," he said.

"Yeah, I know." Moira nodded towards the vase of flowers sitting on the table. "She brings lilacs every year. You can smell them from the hallway, you know."

"Is that why you have your camera with you?" Papa asked, going back to the book.

"Mmm-hmm." She could afford to take some pictures of the lilacs once she was done with what she had in mind. First, though, she needed to get a good head or bust shot of Papa that was candid. "I might take some of you, too. Is that okay?"

He snorted, turning a page. "Don't expect me to smile."

"Nah, if you could turn somewhat to the left and look up a bit, that'd be all I want, really." She couldn't see his face too well; he was in profile, and looking down at that, so if anything, all she got in the viewfinder was the lower half of his face, covered with messy dark hair that was a warm brown in the afternoon sunlight.

Papa shrugged and shifted so that now he was facing Moira. She grunted in satisfaction; even though his eyes weren't on the camera, which was a huge rule-breaker with portraits, it wouldn't have been natural for Papa to look straight at the camera anyway.

"Wow," she whispered, looking through the viewfinder. A tight shot on his head and shoulders would be all she needed. Naturally, she'd need to do multiple shots of different aperture settings and shutter speeds, but the composition, so far, looked gorgeous.

Papa was off-center, towards the right. Now that Moira could see his face, she understood why Amy had told her outright that he was hot, even though the thought of it made her screech, "Ew! EW!" The sunlight made everything about him softer, giving his skin and the white shirt he wore both warmth and shadow.

An aperture of f/11 was probably the smallest she could go. The highest, she decided, would be f/5.6, or she'd risk overexposure. As for the shutter speeds, 1/250s would be enough for a really sharp photograph, with 1/8s to see if she could blur the background just enough to put the focus on Papa, but not enough so that it wasn't recognizable.

"How come you don't like smiling for photographs?" she asked, going to the Aperture Settings menu on the back of her camera, choosing f/5.6 and then setting the shutter speed for 1/8 before snapping the photo.

"It's not real," Papa replied, still not looking up from his book. He turned another page. "Smiling because someone tells you it'll look good in a picture is dumb. I can't be bothered."

Moira narrowed the aperture and snapped another photo. "Uh-huh," she said. "So that picture of you smiling..."

"I felt like smiling at the time because Duo walked in." There was something odd in the way Papa stated this so matter-of-factly; with the boys Moira knew in her classes, if they had significant others, they all got this look of utter bliss on their faces when they talked about them. Ron, for example, thought Audrey was the greatest thing that walked the earth. Never mind that Moira had stories of when Audrey drove her car in donuts around the parking lot while Moira leaned out the window yelling, "Put your under-lovelies back on!" over and over—Ron still called Audrey his princess. It stopped being cute after the first week.

Moira narrowed the aperture to snap one more photo, then changed the shutter speed to 1/250. "Does Dad still make you happy now?" she asked, pressing the button.

"Of course he does," he replied. "But that's because he's here with me."

As she widened the aperture to f/8, Moira asked, "What about me? Do I make you happy too?"

Papa snorted again, but not unkindly. "Don't be silly," he said, but as he spoke, the corners of his mouth turned up into a small, but unmistakably real smile, in time for Moira to snap her second to last photo.

It wasn't until she'd snapped the last one that she realized that it'd been the first time she /saw/ him do that up close.

Dad proved to be much harder. Some part of him would always be moving—usually his hands—so there was always the risk of something blurring. High shutter speed usually took care of that, but there was the risk of getting him in a pose that looked off.

On the other hand, Moira couldn't ask him to sit still. The picture was supposed to be natural, and the only way to get Dad not to move was to take pictures of him asleep, and that usually wasn't pretty. So she opted for the next best and tried to shoot him while he was making dinner.

"I need you to help once you're done," he said, adding some lemon juice to the chicken he was marinating. "Since you're feeling better, make soup, okay? I picked up some fresh bread bowls on the way home, so it'd be great if you could do that tomato bisque Nana Relena taught you last spring."

He lifted his head, throwing his profile into full view, and Moira saw her chance to take a picture. She just hoped that the aperture wasn't too wide; she didn't want an overexposed picture. Granted, the computer could take care of it nicely, but it meant more work for her down the road.

"Sure," she said. "We've got everything, right?"

"Yup." Dad took some cloves off a head of garlic. "Got the tomatoes on sale this week. They're good ones, and yes, hon, I made sure not to get the ones grown on the colonies."

Moira clucked her tongue approvingly, shrinking the aperture. "Those don't have any /taste/," she grumbled. "They're just big tomato-like things that don't taste like tomatoes."

Dad looked up from where he was chopping the garlic to flash her a grin, and she snapped another picture. "You're not alone there. Hell, that's the first time I heard Papa actively complain about food. Most of the time he eats whatever's in front of him."

"That's because what we cook is good," Moira said. "Isn't it?" Dad laughed.

"Unlike you, who had Relena to help, I had to figure it out myself," he said, dropping the minced garlic in with the chicken. "Now, when I was your age, cooking for me was nothing more than instant ramen noodles. If I really wanted to get fancy, that's what the microwave was for." He gestured on the word, "microwave," and Moira pressed the button.

"Why'd you learn?" Moira asked. Dad shrugged, raising his eyebrows in that "do you even have to ask" look.

"Usually, having a kid means you need to cook properly. That, and when Papa and I got to know each other, we had a disagreement over what was considered an actual meal, to make a long story short. From then on, I don't think we've ever had ham pockets." He mixed the marinated chicken. Moira could hear the sounds of meat squishing in the bowl as he stirred.

"Sneh? What're ham pockets?"

"Oh, those're before your time, hon. Back in AC 196 they had little minature meat, cheese, or vegetables wrapped up in bread, frozen and sold in the markets. Ham pockets were real popular, but you don't see 'em anymore," Dad said, giving the mixture one final stir and needlessly wiping his hands on his apron, "because nowadays the mini-meals have taken over. After all, why get something so small when you can nuke bigger things in half the time?"

Moira frowned. "I don't remember eating those."

Dad lifted a finger. "Nana would have freaked out, and she'd have good reason to. Have you read the ingredient lists on those things?" When Moira shrugged, he continued.

"Those things are gonna outlive both you and me, what with all those preservatives they dumped in there. They're good in a pinch, I'll admit, but have 'em all the time and that's one nasty malnutrition case on your hands." He unbound his ponytail, stuck the elastic in his mouth and began gathering the loose chestnut hair up at his neck.

Moira snapped another picture; Dad looked natural, at ease, but his eyes were that intense shade of cobalt blue they got when he was engaged in a good conversation. Also, he was in the middle of doing something, even though it was simply redoing his ponytail.

When he lowered his hands from his neck, she took another shot; he was still in motion, but this one would probably fit better with the images of Papa she had in the camera.

"You done yet?" Dad asked. "I'd like to have dinner ready in about an hour or so."

She nodded, switching the camera off. "It'll be ready in forty-five minutes."

"That's my girl," Dad said approvingly. "You'll find the bread bowls in the pantry. Let me know if we're out of something you need, okay?"

The last picture Moira needed was the most difficult to get. For this one, she needed to be as inconspicuous as possible, which meant the zoom lens on the camera was a very good friend.

Not only that, there had to be an opportunity presenting itself. Papa wasn't too intimate with Dad in the house when he knew she was around. Dad did things like big sloppy hugs and kisses. Papa acted like he didn't like it. Maybe he really didn't. Moira didn't know.

It'd probably be different if they didn't know she was around. No, she /knew/ it was different if they weren't aware of her. Papa was nowhere near as outward in his affection as Dad was, but he made the receiver quite aware of his feelings, which was enough.

With Dad, Papa would either lean into him if they were sitting next to each other on the couch or if they were on opposite ends, he'd reach over and touch Dad's hand lightly before stroking his arm. He also liked touching Dad's collarbone a lot. Moira couldn't understand why; after all, it wasn't in any way appealing. Bones weren't all that touchable.

Moira had been getting more comfortable around him. She was always crashing on his lap; after half an hour or so, Dad would always move or get up without warning her, and her head would thump on the floor or couch, so he wasn't a good pillow. If Papa needed to move, he'd at least warn her, or lift her head up and give her a pillow before going off and doing something else. In other cases, he'd reach over and hook some stray hair behind her ear while she was reading or messing around, or touch the inside of her wrist or elbow if he wanted her attention.

They hadn't talked about the scar on her temple since that incident in November. Papa still thought about it, though; she could tell. He'd brush against it when he was sweeping her hair aside and linger there for a few seconds. She didn't have the guts to ask what he was thinking about, given that its meaning wasn't as positive for him as she'd hoped.

Even so, she saw that Papa was more receptive and affectionate with Dad than he was with her. Moira didn't know what to make of it. Maybe they'd known each other longer or better. There was this little nagging voice in her head that made her wonder if she was left out; it was the one behind that stupid "Do I make you happy?" she asked Papa earlier this week. She knew for sure that he didn't /hate/ her, knew that he probably liked her, but whether he liked her just as much as Dad, that was up to debate.

Insecurity issues aside, right now was a good opportunity. The two of them were on the porch, where Papa was opening an envelope. Through the viewfinder's zoom, Moira recognized the ETS symbol; the test results had come in. Dad had his hands on his hips, with an expectant grin on his face, while Papa unfolded the paper inside, scanning the contents, and then letting out a visible sigh of relief as Dad threw his arms around him, saying something, probably "I knew you'd pass."

All Papa did was lean on Dad's shoulder, smiling as Dad carried on by hugging him tighter, then dropping one arm and wrapping the other around Papa's waist. Moira zoomed in further so that only their top halves were in the viewfinder. Maybe if she was quiet, she could sneak further along the lawn and hide behind one of the big trees near the porch without them seeing her. Otherwise she'd have to crop on the computer later for the head and shoulder shots. On the other hand, waist-up wasn't /so/ bad, was it?

Making sure her sneakers were quiet on the grass, Moira made sure that Dad and Papa weren't looking in her direction, and then tiptoed quickly over behind the tree nearest the porch. If it wasn't for the trunk, she'd be right in plain view.

The aperture was set for f/11, the shutter speed 1/250. The only change this time was to make the apertures smaller or larger—this far away, Moira didn't want to risk anything blurring. This was the centerpiece of her project for the two of them. She hoped that she'd have the same luck she had with getting Papa's photograph. Dad she didn't have to worry about; he was always an interesting subject and there'd be something she could use in the piece.

Dad and Papa stood like that for a while—to Moira it seemed like forever—and then Papa shyly reached over to touch Dad's collarbone. An amused closed-mouth grin came over Dad's face, but Papa didn't notice.

"Bingo. Stay right where you two are," Moira muttered, and pressed the shutter release. They still weren't aware, so she changed the aperture to f/16 and quickly shot again, making sure the composition was still similar. A quick glance at the LCD showed that she didn't need to go any wider, and thank goodness, the shots looked beautiful. She couldn't wait to show Miss Bloom.

"Hey, hon, what're you doing over there?" Dad's baritone startled her from her work, and she switched the camera off. "We're eating out tonight, so I need you to make reservations."

"Where?" she asked. Dad looked at Papa, but all he did was shrug noncommittally. Dad thought for a bit, and his eyebrows shot up in that "aha!" expression.

"There's that Italian place G told me about last week. Let me find the name and I'll get back to you," he said, releasing Papa and going inside.

Well, Moira thought, that was some good timing. Papa had the recertification to celebrate—now with the results, he'd probably start working in two weeks—and she had something of her own to celebrate too.

"Congratulations," she said to Papa on her way in. As she passed him by, she sang to herself, "I was walking along in the su-un, taking pictures of e-ve-ry-o-ne, and there's something on the tip of my tongue..."

Tomorrow, she'd head back to her old high school and really put this into action. Hopefully she remembered how the sandblaster worked.

Moira hadn't counted on this taking so long. Maybe, she thought, she should have just mounted the photos on matting board. Then she'd have been out of here within an hour. It was getting late, and Miss Bloom had told her she needed to leave within forty-five minutes.

Sandblasting the aluminum had taken some time. There'd been one more piece left when she'd taken the necessary three, so Miss Bloom had suggested she take the remainder and use it to mat a self-portrait she'd done after the project. It wasn't really anything special; just Moira laying down on the grass underneath an oak tree in Nana's garden, holding a few lilacs in her hands. But Miss Bloom said it'd make a nice bonus for Dad and Papa, so she'd sandblasted the fourth piece.

Printing out the photos was all right; the pictures had, for the most part, turned out well just like in the viewfinder. She'd had to add a filter for Dad, because the sunlight had made him come across too yellow, and the picture of Dad and Papa needed a blurrier background. They'd had Polaroid paper in the art storage, and after she reacquainted herself with the photo printer, she had some actual hard copies to work with. She'd printed out two of each, in case she messed up.

Of course, she thought, she'd /had/ to choose the hardest photo techniques instead of matting the damn things and leaving it at that. But she wanted something that would last and look cool, and emulsions on aluminum had that effect, if you had the patience and the determination for it. In the end, she could look at the piece and say, "Yeah, I worked hard on this and I'm damn proud of it."

She was working on mounting the final print—Papa's photograph. The emulsion had begun to lift, and she took the tongs, clamping onto the print and transferring it from the tub of hot water to one that was cooler. As it bobbed up and down, Moira pushed the sides until it was peeling away, and slid it off the backing, leaving it to float in the water like a piece of tissue paper.

"Be a good print," she said, taking out the backing with her fingers and throwing it into the trash, "and don't tear like the last two." Dad's portrait looked like he was missing half of his head on the first try. The one with the two of them, well, she'd watched it the second time around. The first one had been so wrinkly she couldn't tell what the hell it was.

Wiping her hands on her cargoes, she plunged into the water, holding the emulsion and the acetate sheet on the bottom of the tub together. This one wasn't /too/ wrinkly, which was a good sign. Miss Bloom had said that there'd never be an emulsion lift that was perfectly flat and wrinkle-free, but that didn't mean Moira didn't want to at least try.

This one, thankfully, didn't give her trouble. There /were/ wrinkles, but none of them were on Papa's face. They'd wound up on his shirt. Satisfied, Moira flipped the acetate over onto the waiting piece of aluminum, carefully peeling it off with a chant of "please don't tear, please don't tear..."

Once it was on the aluminum, it looked very nice, Moira decided. Not as solid as a normal matted print, but, she thought, stretching the edges here and there, one could still tell it was Papa and that he was smiling, which was what she'd been worried about all along.

Almost done, she thought, taking the roller and pressing the image down. This one wouldn't take long to dry; the sunny weather outside made sure of that. The others were all dry now, so they could be put into the dry mount press.

She picked up the first one, her self-portrait (it'd gone first because it had the most chances of messing up), and walked out to the mounting press. Twenty minutes left before Miss Bloom came back from her meeting and told Moira to get out of here. There was time.

"You done yet?" Miss Bloom asked, auburn curls bouncing as she strode into the room.

"Just about," Moira replied, spraying the last piece with lacquer. "How long does this take to dry again?"

"Thirty seconds," Miss Bloom said, straightening out some papers at her desk. "Good grief, that meeting was way too long...well, here, let me see what you've done while I was out." She came to the table where the finished products were laid out, looking them up and down for a long time.

Now that she'd stopped worrying about whether they'd turn out crappy, Moira realized how much these looked like the ancient photos she'd seen in her textbook. They'd been on metal too, but this was different, because the sandblaster had given the aluminum a subtly textured appearance. The photos had been taken on her digital camera, and here they were, looking like the ones in the pre-colony days.

Fusing past and present, she thought. That was appropriate for her parents.

Miss Bloom's voice brought her out from her thoughts. "They're lovely," she said. "I think your parents are going to be really happy."

"They're not perfect," Moira began.

"They don't have to be. Especially with emulsion lifts—there's no way you'll get crisp flat edges, but that's why they're so unique. And they'll last longer than matted prints."

At that, Moira smiled. She liked what she heard.

"Are you going to sign them?" Miss Bloom asked. "I think if you engrave your signature onto the pictures, it'll be even more special, you know. There's time; you've got about..." she glanced at her watch, "five minutes. I'll get a needle for you. Hold on."

She scurried off to the storage room, and Moira was left alone again. Where was she going to sign her name on these things? The letters would have to be small, or she'd risk going into the pictures themselves. Running a fingertip along the edges of the one with Dad, she thought for a moment. Initials would probably be okay, an "M.M./262" on the lower right side...

"Hey," she heard a familiar voice ask, "you seen Cathy around?"

Looking up, she found Trowa standing in the doorway of the classroom. "Trowa! How do you know Miss Bloom?"

He shrugged, shouldering his backpack. "She's my sister, so I'm here to pick her up. What are you doing here? I thought you'd graduated high school already."

"Project. I needed the equipment, so your sister was really nice and let me use it. They're emulsion lifts."

Trowa's visible eyebrow went up. "You really need to work your butt off for those. What's the occasion?"

"Um..." Moira couldn't very well say that they were to mark Papa being with them for a year, because it would take forever to explain. "For an anniversary."

"Parents?" Trowa asked, coming inside. Moira nodded.

"Here we go," Miss Bloom said, running back out and handing Moira a needle attached to a brush handle. "Maintain an even pressure and you should be all—oh, Trowa, I didn't know you were here already!"

"Traffic was unusually good after my shift," he said. "Anyway, you ready to go?"

Miss Bloom's gray eyes looked at Moira expectantly. "Moira?"

"Won't be a moment," Moira said, bending down to engrave her initials into the first picture. She heard Trowa murmuring some commentary on the series, but she was too busy wondering whether she'd be able to show Nana before she went home.

After all, she had about two to three more weeks before she could reveal this little surprise of hers to Dad and Papa. Still, this was a huge project, something she'd put a lot of herself into, and she couldn't keep that a secret.

She finished engraving the date on the last picture, and said "Okay, I'm ready," to Miss Bloom and Trowa. It was getting late, and she needed to buy some groceries before she headed home for dinner.


	13. Final Chapter

True North

Chapter 13

Pairing: 2x1

Category: AU

Warnings: OC kid

Archived?: MediaMiner, under Miyabi

Feedback: Yes! At MediaMiner, jeliang at umich dot edu or kakigouri at gmail dot com.

Gundam Wing copyright Bandai, Sunrise, and Sotsu Agency. "Eien no Rhapsody" copyright Midori Saiha/Ringo Zaidan. "Beloved" copyright The Working Title.

Thanks to Diamroyal for beta reading and providing information I lacked, Richard Anderson for providing valuable information throughout the entire time and for being a sounding board, both for providing me with a retaliation idea and running with it, Natea for providing the pregnancy info, Midori Saiha of Ringo Zaidan for creating the doujinshi that inspired this.

Most importantly, a heartfelt thanks to all of you that have been reading all along.

"And I will waste no time  
Worried 'bout no rainy weather  
And I will waste no time  
Remaining in our lives together"

--John Mayer, "Clarity"

Duo groaned, tapping on the containment chamber's wall. "C'mon, Heero. You couldn't be that upset about the lights."

There was no answer, but he saw Heero's shoulders moving up and down with, for him, suppressed laughter. At least he thought it was laughter; the bastard had his back to him.

"It was for your own damn good," he shouted. "You'd have burned out otherwise, and then you think you'd have gotten back now?"

Duo kicked a bare foot angrily. Heero had returned to the labs shortly after he'd passed the exam. It had taken a few days to get used to things, but after two weeks, he'd settled himself comfortably, and they'd been working side by side on the research project Duo had thought about last September.

Of course, Duo thought that Heero hadn't given a damn about the lights being rigged when he was studying back in April. In fact, he hadn't given the event much thought himself since; there wasn't any reason too, since it all worked out.

Apparently, Duo had been wrong, since it was already the first of June—Moira was going to be sixteen in two days—and Heero not only remembered the lights prank, he was still pissed off about it, because otherwise Duo wouldn't be in containment at this very moment, in a paper gown, waiting for the biohazard unit to give him the all-clear on what looked like an endless series of blood and urine tests.

Duo was going to stay late to tie up some loose ends on the first part of their research. But when he stuck his card in the log system after he was done, the building went into a chaotic uproar of bright lights, sirens and alarm bells, followed by the cops.

He'd triggered the master alarm, one that was reserved once a year for drills. Otherwise, it'd been six years since they'd heard it for an actual emergency. It wasn't until they'd finished doing a very thorough strip-search (Duo made a note to tell the Earthside bio unit they could stand to be gentler) that he saw Heero standing outside the containment chamber, arms crossed and wearing a smugly triumphant expression.

"Why the fuck is he looking so happy?" were the first words in Duo's head. When he noticed Heero was laughing /at/ him, they changed to "What the fuck I do to deserve this?" Upon backtracking through anything he'd done to piss Heero off, the lights prank had been the most recent.

So just before he left to give the biohazard people a urine sample, he asked, "This is payback for the lights, isn't it?"

Heero had nodded just before Duo got shooed off, the smirk on his face growing larger.

"Dr. Maxwell?" There she was again, the captain of the biohazard squad, at his elbow, a no-nonsense woman in her fifties who was so tiny she swam in her protective suit. "Your tests are clear. Congratulations."

"Great! Does that mean I can go?" he asked. That got a glare and a firm shake of the head.

"Sorry. You've got to go through routine decontamination," she said. "That won't take long, but we've got to keep you here for observation. Given where you are, I'd say overnight. Maybe more tests to see if anything happens."

Duo groaned. Why, he asked himself, couldn't he just have been denied sex for a week or two instead of this? The only bright spot in all of this was that Heero had mastered the security system, meaning he'd adapted to present-day technology quite well.

There was a time and place for showing that, though, and this wasn't it.

When she heard the news, Moira blinked. Then, to Papa: "Could you repeat that?"

"I'm pregnant," he said. "That's why I had to sit you down."

"Men don't get pregnant," she snapped. Papa shrugged.

"Well, I did. If you don't believe me, call Duo. He should be out of containment by now." He folded his hands over his stomach, and she winced thinking about how it'd expand over the next...

"When's it due?"

"Early winter. It's still hard to pinpoint, since we don't know how the baby will develop. Even if I gave you a due date now, we'd probably be off by a few weeks, maybe even a month. And, since this is experimental, there's the possibility of it being premature." There wasn't any telltale sign of a smile on his face—Papa was wearing his standard expression.

All Moira could do was sit in her chair, gaping at Papa's stomach. She couldn't imagine him at full term, waddling around in extra large clothing. Well, she could. But she didn't want to. So maybe they wouldn't have to look very far for something outside of maternity wear, but there was something very wrong about this.

"Why don't you call Duo? He's got more information at the labs," Papa said. "I'll be upstairs."

"Ah, he told you, huh?" Dad said, nodding over the vidphone screen. "Yeah, we've been working on that for a while. I wasn't sure if it was going to succeed, but hey, there ya go. Papa's about three months along."

Moira wanted to shake him by the shoulders, to ask in a very loud, angry voice that if they wanted another kid, why didn't they just grow one in a tube like they did with her? That she could handle a lot better. Besides, there were tons of kids who'd been born out of artificial wombs—it wasn't that big a deal.

Then again, she was cautiously optimistic in the hopes that this was all a nightmare, and she'd wake up and laugh about it at the table with both of them.

"Now, Papa probably told you that we can't give you an /exact/ due date, but I'd say..." here, he shuffled some papers on his desk, "November to Decemberish."

"Oh," Moira found herself saying. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

Dad grinned. "So, you'll be getting a little brother or sister in time for the holiday season! Isn't that great? Actually, we thought we'd tell you tomorrow, but since someone couldn't keep it to himself, consider this an early birthday present."

"/What/?" Moira squawked.

"Oh, and could you do me a favor, hon? Don't tell anyone for a while, at least not until Papa begins to show. Not even Nana, okay?"

Moira fainted.

Heero could feel Duo's reproachful glare boring into him as he told Moira that no, he wasn't pregnant. After he'd dumped a glass of water on her, she'd woken up and had been immediately sat down once again.

"So you're not three months along," she said, wary. "And there's nothing coming out of there around Christmas."

Heero shook his head.

"Right," she said, looking to Duo's face on the vidphone for confirmation.

"It's too dangerous," Duo said. "Y'see, the baby needs somewhere to latch onto in the body. So, for a woman, that's the uterus. But a guy doesn't have one, so the next likely candidate is the intestine."

"I...see," Moira said, shakily drinking her glass of water.

"When the placenta forms, it has to break down the capillaries in that area, so there's a blood supply for nutrients. So you know that sticks around, right, honey? Remember your sex ed classes?"

Heero didn't know anybody could glare while drinking out of a glass. Maybe he /had/ gone too far. Hopefully the ice pack he was preparing would keep the bump on her head from swelling too much.

"If it's a woman," he said to Moira, wrapping a towel around the ice and handing it to her, "there'll be muscles that clamp down on the blood network, so she's fine when the placenta comes off. But a man doesn't have those, so he'd bleed to death within a few minutes once that happened."

"Don't forget the part where the baby's head gets stuck in his pelvis," Duo muttered. "Actually, he /could/ give birth safely and avoid bleeding to death and the pelvis thing via C-section. They'd have to keep the placenta in there and let the body break it down though, so there's the risk of infection."

Moira nodded, finishing her glass. "And you guys thought it'd be /funny/ to pretend that Papa was pregnant? The hell?"

Duo sighed. "You know, I didn't want to go along with it, but he threatened me while I was in containment. You're damn lucky you never ended up in one of those before, sweetheart."

Moira turned to glare at Heero. "All of this for the lights? That's /cruel/!"

"Now we're even," he said, as Duo said at the same time, "We'll make it up to you tomorrow, honey. Promise."

Moira said nothing, glowering at both of them instead.

"I understand if you want to kill us," Duo was sheepish. "We didn't think you'd pass out on the floor."

"On my /birthday/?" she growled.

Duo caught Heero's eye, and said, "We just need some time to talk when I get home. Don't worry, we'll keep you posted. And you're not sixteen until tomorrow."

Moira snorted, getting up and leaving the room. When she'd turned the corner to go upstairs, Duo fixed Heero with a glare of his own.

"She didn't have to take the bribe," Heero said.

Duo's expression didn't waver. "You realize now I have to extend the girl's curfew?"

"I'm not sorry."

"Let's hope for your sake you stay that way. Shit, even a curfew extension might not be enough," Duo said, breaking the connection.

Luckily for both of them, Moira took the curfew extension—out until midnight on weekdays and then one or two in the morning on weekends—and that settled the entire matter.

Of course, Heero thought, that was because Duo had been thoughtful and given her some ice cream he'd picked up on the way back from work. Also, she'd had some time to nap and let things settle.

In fact, looking at Moira now, chatting with Relena, it looked like she'd completely forgotten about it. Heero could tell through the lack of glares directed towards him and Duo in between her bites of pasta.

They were at Zerzura, the little karaoke restaurant to celebrate her birthday tonight, and, Duo had added on a little side note, Heero being revived for a year. He'd been surprised when Duo had mentioned that; after all, he hadn't realized that much time had passed.

"Remember how you didn't want to go here before?" Duo asked, putting down his napkin. He smiled fondly. "I was ready to fall on the floor laughing at the look on Moira's face."

Heero shrugged. "This is different from what I thought it was going to be," he said. Zerzura was cozy without feeling cramped, and the singing, so far, wasn't all bad, except for the drunk man whose voice was so off-key Duo started talking about shooting heroin to take away the pain.

"Hey," Moira said, getting up from her seat. "I think I'm gonna get up and sing, okay?"

"No need to ask permission," Duo said. "Go on up."

"But first..." Moira glanced at Relena briefly, biting her lip nervously. At the old woman's encouraging nod, she turned back to Duo and Heero. "Since it's been about a year since Papa's been with us, I thought I'd, uh...well, hold on." Her head disappeared beneath the table for a few seconds, and she rose to her feet again with a brown rectangular package in both hands. "Here. I made this for both of you. I guess you could consider it a Father's Day present too, but really early."

Duo's eyes widened. "Honey, I wasn't expecting this!"

Heero took the package—it was surprisingly light, and whatever was inside felt hard, like metal. "What is it?" he asked, putting it on the table.

"Ah. Yeah. I can't tell you. See, I'm going to sing up there, and you're going to open it while I'm onstage." She bit a knuckle.

"Are you copping out on sitting here 'cause you're afraid we won't like it?" Duo teased. Moira shook her head.

"No, no. It's not like that. Oh, and the song's dedicated to you two. I'd say that onstage, but uh...I didn't want to embarrass you guys." Her eyes darted to meet Heero's before looking away. "Okay, I guess I'll be going now." She turned and ran towards the stage.

"Aw, isn't that cute?" Duo said, slinging an arm around Heero's shoulders. He prodded the package with a finger. "I wonder what she came up with that she's so nervous about..."

"Quiet." Heero held a finger up to his lips. "She's starting."

/Come to me like in my dreams spinning everything/

/And all the while my bones fight not to crash down/

/Now that I know that you can be everything I need/

/And anything I'd do to find your name/

Duo reached over and started to peel back the adhesive holding the wrapping together. "Let's see what she's got here for us."

A few more tugs and the paper fell away.

"Jesus Christ, Moira," Duo whispered. That was more than Heero could say; in fact, all he could do was sit there, stunned at the contents.

/Please come whisper all you know about this thing called love/

/And feel it as you speak draw you to me/

/Note the swell that passion brings and feel it in the air/

/Come step off of your ledge to soar with me/

It was a series of three photographs arranged like a triptych; the first one being of Duo in profile, the last of Heero while he'd been reading, and the middle one of both of them together.

But these photographs looked like they'd been developed on metal instead of paper. Like Moira had /painted/ them on. The edges of the photos themselves weren't even—Heero saw that the photo of himself had a slight tear on one corner—but it didn't make the entire project any less stunning.

/I could try and find out why these old wings won't fly/

/Till I close my eyes, count the lines and find I'm soaring high/

/Oh to look up and find you with wings on tight/

/Your head faced down/

/You're spinning round/

/Crashing down on me/

He looked up at Moira singing and twirling all over the stage. She didn't seem nervous anymore, and her voice was powerful—more so than Heero had thought. She'd always be singing something softly to herself in the house, but here, her voice carried all the way to the back, low and sweet, with enough brightness to match the song's mood.

"Whoa," Duo said. "Look at that. She got you smiling." He pointed to Heero's picture. Sure enough, he saw himself with the corners of his mouth turned up in the photo. He realized that she'd taken the picture when she was still recovering from the flu, and that was why she'd asked him if it was okay.

Now that he was focused on the photographs themselves, Heero realized that Moira had also gotten the one of him and Duo when he'd gotten his exam results back. How she'd managed to get that one, he'd have to ask someday. Even an outsider could tell they were a couple from how intimate they looked. He'd been touching the notch between Duo's collabones again.

/I'll find you and you'll know me from all your dreams/

/And I'll be everything that I know you can be/

/Dreaming, loving/

/And you'll be everything/

Whistles and cheers filled the restaurant as Moira ended the song, winked at the audience and pointing both fingers at everyone before she ran offstage.

"C'mere, kiddo," Duo said, leaving the table, and swept her up into a bear hug, crushing her against him.

"Don't break the girl's ribs," Relena chided, "she can't even move."

He released Moira, holding her at the shoulders. "I can't believe you did this for us. It's /incredible/--we're going to be looking at these pictures years later and wondering how you managed to do it, never mind how you were able to keep it a secret all this time." Duo hugged her again, this time lifting her feet off the ground.

"Dad! Not here! Not here!" Moira shrieked, squirming in his grasp, but Duo swung her around in a half circle before setting her down and giving her two loud kisses on her cheeks.

"Thank you so much! We're gonna get them framed as soon as possible," he said.

"Great. Real good," Moira said weakly. Relena, wearing an exasperated smile, rose from her seat and guided her back to the table.

"See? There wasn't anything to worry about. Now," she said, sitting the girl down, "let's see what they've got for dessert."

For a moment, Moira looked at Heero, as if she was searching for or gauging something. He didn't say anything; he couldn't put what he was feeling into anything coherent yet, and he wasn't going to express it until then. An odd wistful look flickered in her eyes before she turned to the dessert menu with Relena.

He heard Duo sit back down, and two hands grasp his shoulders. "Aren't they something?" Duo whispered in his ear. "I'm so proud of our little girl."

Heero ran a finger along the center picture, across Moira's engraved initials, and nodded.

Later that night, Heero found her sitting on the roof, another one of those pictures lying nearby.

"How did you make those?" he asked. Moira started, whipping her head around.

"Oh, wow, didn't see you there. You mean the series, right?" She turned back to look at the sky, rocking back and forth on the heels of her hands.

"Yeah," Heero said, leaning out the window. The night air in summer was warm, smelling faintly of the neighbors' gardens. He reached out, picking up the photo near Moira's knee. "I'm still trying to figure out how you did it."

"It's hard. You need to get actual prints of your photos, and then soak 'em in hot water. That way the emulsion part of the print peels off the paper."

"Emulsion?"

"The image and the glossy stuff it's on," she explained. Then, without turning around, "Why don't you come up here? It's a nice night out."

Heero climbed out of the window, scooting until he was sitting a little behind her, off to the side. Things really did look different from the roof, he thought. It felt more removed from the normal mundane world, and while the sky still wasn't that vast, Heero saw more of it up here.

No wonder Moira liked doing this so much. He could get used to it in time.

"So, with the emulsion, once you've got that away from the paper, you need to stick it onto whatever surface you want—I chose aluminum, it lasts longer—and for a while you can do whatever you want to it, like pulling, tearing," she pantomimed the motions with slender fingers, "but then you need to flatten it and let it dry before sealing."

Heero looked down at the picture in his hands. It was of Moira, laying faceup on the grass and upside down towards the viewer. She wore a small smile, as if she shared an in-joke with the viewer. She'd been lying in the shade of a tree—Heero could tell by the dappled shadows and sunlight—holding a few lilacs in one hand.

"When did you take this one?" he asked.

Moira glanced at the photo. "Around the same time I took the pictures of you and Dad. My art teacher wanted me to do it as a bonus for you guys, but I didn't think it'd look good."

"Why not?" Heero asked, surprised. He wasn't an expert of what was a good picture or not, but he couldn't see anything wrong with it.

Moira tilted her head from side to side, thinking. "The series is with you and Dad. If I stuck a self-portrait in there, it'd just disrupt stuff." She waved a hand, uncrossing her legs and drawing them up to her chin. "You know, out of place."

Heero stared at her, attempting to figure out where the hell she'd ever gotten an idea like that.

"What?" Moira snapped, gathering up her loose hair and flipping it out of the way, letting it fall down her back. "You don't believe me?"

He looked at the picture again, touching the upper edge. "Are you going to do anything with this?"

She shook her head. "No. Not that I know of."

"Can I have it?" Heero shifted into a more comfortable position on the roof. When Moira arched a questioning eyebrow, he said, "You might not like it, but /I/ do."

Moira shrugged her shoulders gracefully. "Sure."

"Thanks." He paused, watching her tie the laces on her sneakers before she clasped her hands around her ankles. "What are you doing up here?"

"Looking for the North Star." She checked her watch. "It might be dark enough now, actually."

"Polaris?" Heero asked. Moira nodded.

"It'll be Polaris for a while, yeah. But that star's actually about a degree or two from celestial north, and in a few thousand years, it won't be Polaris anymore after that."

"It won't?" Heero moved closer as Moira spun her index finger in circles.

"You've seen a top spin, right? Sometimes it wobbles due to torque. Well, that's what Earth has, and its axis makes a complete circle," here, she made a clear one for emphasis, "every two thousand six hundred years, and it always points to different places in the sky. So, right now Polaris is the North Star. But later on, it's going to be Vega. That'll be a hell of a lot easier to find, since it's so bright."

Moira paused, staring into the sky for a few seconds, and then pointed at a star. "There it is. It's one of the brightest."

As Heero leaned forward to see where her finger was pointing, she leaned back, saying, "Polaris is way back there, since we're facing east..."

His mouth bumped gently against her temple, and she stopped in mid-sentence to stare at him in shocked wonder. Heero was about to apologize when he saw that wistfulness appear in her eyes.

It hadn't been the first time he'd seen it; every now and then, when he was with Duo and she came into the room, it would appear for a split second before she replaced it with something else. Like she felt left out and wanted to be a part of whatever he and Duo were.

But she'd been too proud to say anything about it.

Heero folded an arm across Moira's shoulders, bridging the gap between them and hugging her close to his chest. She smelled comfortable and clean, like rosemary, verbena, and mint all together. All this time, her eyes never left his own, ones a dark shade of smoky blue that wasn't quite his or Duo's.

He couldn't believe something coming from him could be this beautiful.

But that was how any father felt towards his daughter, Heero thought, brushing his lips against Moira's temple. Her eyes widened, and she brought a hand up to her head in disbelief.

"So," he said, clasping both arms around her, "show me where Vega is?"

Moira pointed. "A little to the left. But it won't be celestial north for a while. After the axis makes another circle, the North Star won't be Vega anymore either, so we'll always be looking for a different one to find our way." She paused, thinking. "It's a lot like life, when you think about it."

Heero smiled, squeezing his arms tighter around Moira and burrowing his chin in her hair. "Yeah, it is."

The sun had already risen, even though it was still early. Heero rolled over in bed to look at the alarm clock; the display read 7:12. The days were getting longer, all right.

He rolled back over, listening to Duo snore. Today was Sunday, so there wasn't any pressing need to get out of bed soon. Given that they'd spent more time awake than asleep in it last night, it didn't look like Duo would be up and around for another few hours. Heero couldn't blame him; he didn't really feel like getting up either, but he couldn't go back to sleep.

Heero sat up slowly, swinging his bare legs over the edge of the bed. His shirt still lay crumpled in a heap from when Duo had taken it off the night before, so he picked that up and pulled it on, leaving the top three buttons undone. He only wanted to look out the window for a little while, so he couldn't be bothered to get fully dressed.

The neighborhood looked like it was still asleep, even though it was already broad daylight. Outside was quiet, save for the faint rustle of leaves and a few chirping birds.

It was a moment that others took easily for granted, Heero thought; morning, where activity was at a minimum and there was nothing but the calm itself. It wasn't anything /he'd/ taken the time to notice until now, much less before he'd been put into coldsleep.

He snorted, remembering how he'd been then, shutting himself off from everybody because he had things to do and didn't know how long he had to do them. He'd said, "there isn't time" too often, even after he'd met Duo.

But back then, he didn't know when the time would run out, only that it was going to and there wasn't enough of it. There was never enough time, Heero said to himself, when one was dying.

And yet, if Duo hadn't mentioned it yesterday, he wouldn't have been aware it'd been a year since he'd been brought out of coldsleep and subsequently cured. Well, almost a year, really; if they wanted to get technical about it, he'd been revived about a week or two after Moira's birthday. He couldn't remember exactly, but that wasn't important.

Heero looked down at his hands, curling in his fingers and opening them over and over. A year had passed, and he'd spent it in a healthy body. He marveled at that simple fact; anyone else wouldn't have thought much about it, but for him, it was nothing short of a miracle.

Not exactly, he reminded himself. Duo asked him to wait for him to come back with a cure, and he'd waited. And Duo /had/ returned. But, Heero thought, he'd known that would happen all along.

"Hey, what are you doing up so early?"

He felt a pair of arms encircle his waist from behind, pulling him in.

"Don't tell me you were gonna leave me alone in that bed by myself," Duo said, voice warm and roughened with sleep.

Heero said nothing, but instead turned around, reaching up to place his hand on the back of Duo's neck, tangling his fingers in the other man's long hair before pulling him down for a deep, intense kiss.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"For what?" The two of them were so close he could feel the heat of Duo's breath when he spoke.

"Everything," Heero said, before kissing Duo once more. He wasn't able to recall all the specifics, but other than perfect health, the opportunity to be reunited with Duo and Moira was one of the important things.

Duo smiled, finally understanding. "You're welcome," he replied. Then, unbuttoning the rest of Heero's shirt: "Come back to bed."

"Sure." He wrapped his arms around Duo's shoulders, reveling in his warm smell of pepper and coffee. There was no hurry, nowhere to go today, nothing they had to do.

Now he had all the time he needed.

fin

June-December 2004


End file.
